It's About Whats Hidden
by Voracious-Bitch
Summary: Finding yourself when you spent your whole life hiding is hard enough but finding it in the MC world that a whole new kinda self discovery. Meet Twozy & Dayz Twins on the run who find shelter with the Sons of Tacoma. This is re-edited story of my Twin hustlers who fall in with the Tacoma charter/OMC, OFC/Happy per-series time line will eventually be a Mature rated.
1. Chapter 1

**Beating delusion**

Margaret Renton watched as her son, Sunday, reached over towards his sister, Tuesday, as she passed him the soda that they were sharing; neither looking at one another. Anyone who truly observed their interactions would become aware of how connected they were; oddly so. Even to her, they sometimes seemed freakish in their co- existence.

They finished each others sentences, and moved in mirror to one another. They very seldom could be found to be more than a few feet from each other. Even at the age of fourteen, where they should have more than hit the point of separation because they were boy and girl, they still maintained physical contact, often linking arms or simply sitting beside each other.

When they ate, they reached over into one another's plates. The two never actually spoke to each other, but never failed to know what the other needed or wanted. To an outside observer, her children would simply seem to be close siblings. Both blond and blue eyed, long in limb and lean of frame, their twin-hood obvious. Their interactions proclaimed them close, but she, as their mother, often worried about how close they were. She blamed herself for how they depended on one another.

The first twelve years of their lives had been a bad TV drama. Their father, an abusive controlling man to her. The twins, although witnessing it all, had been spared the physical attacks, or so she liked to think. She on the other hand, had been black and blue physically and mentally, turning to 'mother's little helpers' and booze to cope. She ignored Sunday and Tuesday, leaving them to their own devices, and the care of the ever-changing young and well endowed house keepers hired by her husband.

She had finally woken one morning to find both children battered and bruised from a beating, cleaning up one-another's wounds. She had not been awake to receive the beating. Ron, frustrated by not being able to gain the look and sounds of fear from her drunken, passed out body, had turned on the kids. She had always been the recipient of his rages; he had never gone after the children before. This was is what she told herself over and over. As far as Ron was concerned, they were only to be brought out and put on display when his social climb up the company ladder required their presence. The same reason he never hit her in the face. But, he had hit the children that night.

Both Sunday and Tuesday had split lips, black eyes and bruised finger prints around their necks. Her guilt spurred her need to disappear into a drunken coma, but the look of utter contempt in her children's eyes left her breathless with guilt. She might have simply popped a pill, swallowed with whiskey, and gone back to the oblivion; but the look they had given her made her realize that she was allowing the misery to spread, that her fate was to be her children's.

That she allowed it all, and once he had hit them, she was sure that he would continue, that it would be a new thrill to subjugate and demean them. Twist them, and contort them like he had been doing to her for years. Somewhere in her muddled brain she objected to that, and found the courage to take action. It took a month, but she weaned herself off the pills, and cut the booze down to one glass of whiskey just before Ron came home, the liquid courage necessary to deflect him from the kids. In that month, she collected and squirreled away money and sold jewels 'til she had enough to get them away.

She foolishly hoped her husband would not bother looking for them, but he did. He found them in New Jersey six months later. Luck had been with her and the kids when the kids had spotted Ron at their school office, and they had left, running straight to her. From Jersey, she had packed them off to Miami where he found them again. This time he had actually managed to enter their apartment, and they found him waiting in the living room for them.

Sunday and Tuesday were the only reason they had gotten away. The children had waited until he began to rant, gearing up to swing and turning his back on them. They knocked him down, Tuesday taking out his legs by running straight for the back of his knees, she had flipped him on to his back, knocking the wind out of him the moment he landed. Sunday had kicked him in three quick hard thrusts of his booted feet to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.

Margaret had watched in stupefied amazement as her children had gone around the house pulling out bags from their room. Sunday had collected her purse keys and phone. Tuesday grabbed jackets, and monitoring Ron's prone form for signs of life. All this was done in silence until they had said, "Mom, time to go" in unison.

They had gathered her and propelled her out the door to their car, loaded all the bags, and Tuesday had slid behind the wheel and driven them to a second hand car lot.

"Mom we need to sell this car."

Her children had created an escape plan that included a second vehicle in someone else's name, and a place to live in Oregon, all under the name of a Mrs. Linda Benetton. A new name that came with social security. They had been clear for the last year, but with the money she had managed to take coming to its end, she had gone and started looking for work as Linda Benetton. She had had no credentials, and the best she could find was a low paying job as a receptionist in a real estate office.

Unfortunately for her, the office had been robbed the month before, and the police unbeknown to her had run all finger prints, and now they were found. Ron had the law backing him. He had reported her for kidnapping his children.

By fluke or luck, she had been in the building laundry room when the cops had come to arrest her for parental kidnapping. Her land lady, a women of sixty odd years, had played dumb and told them that most days she and the children were not home until late in the evening. The officers had left, leaving one officer parked out front of the building.

Evelyn, her landlady, had come huffing and puffing into the laundry room to tell her. Evelyn was not aware of what had transpired in the past, but she was of a mind set that if a mother ran away with her children, there must be a good reason. Evelyn had helped her get by the unie posted just out side the building, distracting the officer with a thermos of coffee and some busy-body questions, allowing Margaret to escape and collect the kids from the library where they had been. Now they sat in a park, and Margaret needed to make a few decisions, there was no possible way they could continue to run.

She was a wanted woman. Wherever she took them they would eventually be found. As the kids were minors, she was sure that they would be placed in the custody of their father, who had money, a law firm and political backing. While she would be the drunken addict who had stolen and kidnapped their children.

Margaret knew without a doubt now that Ron would not stop. His words before the children had knocked him out, still rang in her ears most nights in her nightmares.

"You stupid whore. You're mine. They're mine, and the only way any of you get to leave is when I choke the life out of you, and I bury you all in side by side graves."

Margaret felt the panic setting in. She knew that the kids had a plan in place for them to run, but as she saw it, she would always be the weak link. She had no way to hide now that she had a federal warrant for her arrest. She was bound to get them caught eventually, placing the kids back in Ron's control, and that was not going to happen. They had four years to be free and clear of their father's control. All she had to do was figure out how to keep them out of his hands for that long.

At fourteen, both of her children appeared older due to the fact that they were tall. Tuesday five foot six, and Sunday six foot. Tuesday was turning into a beauty, and in the last year had developed the beginning curves of womanhood. Sunday had shot up in height, and was slowly widening to his length. His shoulders broadening, and muscle mass increasing.

The first time Ron had found them was because Margaret had taken Tuesday to the hospital with a high fever, and used their real names. Even though Sunday had told her that they needed to stay clear, that he had the means to hide who they were from the hospital, that that they could not go in as themselves, that he could go and get Tuesday a fake ID or even find her a doc who would ask no questions, so long as they paid in cash. But she had spent most of the money on things that in the long run did not really matter, and had to be left behind when they ran: Dishes, furniture, rent paid in advance, clothing and two cars.

The whole time the twins had told her to not bother, but she needed to feel like she was living a normal life, and providing them with one to help her feel like she was making up for past mistakes. The reality was that the twins understood better than she did how they would have to proceed. After all, they had worked out how they had been found.

Their response was to simply gain and accumulate as much information and money as they might all need. Having three routes of escape, and money in various places, they pursued avenues she had no idea existed, so that they would always have the skills and connections, so that they did not have to risk being found.

Sunday and Tuesday determined that they had to be capable of defending each other, if ever the need arose again. They had joined a youth group boxing program. They had learned skills, learned to keep themselves safe. It was the twins who knew how to survive on the fringe. In the last two years they had taught themselves; from driving, to forging documents, down to hacking into data bases, and playing pool well enough to hustle. They fixed and repaired anything that they could lay their hands on for resale, bolstering their income. Cars, computers, lawn mowers and tools, they both became obsessive about knowing how things worked.

Margaret knew what she had to do; she had placed her children in this position by lying down and tolerating all the abuse from Ron, never once fighting back. She had soaked her misery in whiskey and drugs, and left her defenceless children to survive essentially on their own. She knew it was time to pay them back for that lapse in motherhood. She was going to turn herself in, and allow the twins the chance to make it on their own.

She knew that they would be able to hide from Ron. She was the one that always seemed needing to be taken care of by them, in all honesty. Other than getting the initial funds to run, she had very little to do with their continued freedom. The twins had taken over from the first time Ron had found them, and only through her own mistakes had they been found.

"Tuesday, Sunday we need to talk, I have something to tell you." Margaret watched as both climbed down from the play set they had been sitting at, and headed her way.

Their movements were synchronized and fluid as they approached. She caught Tuesday's eyes, the girl on the best of days said little to her. She often felt as if she was an intruder to her children, they rarely showed signs of affection towards her, but on occasion she would feel as if they wanted to reach for her. But her guilt and own hang-ups blocked her from reaching out.

She was the problem in her own head, she was a bad mother, not fit to be loved for what she had allowed them to be subjected to through her cowardice. All that crap just built a wall that neither she nor the twins was capable of tearing down. If anything, the more her children became assured in their own skills and one-another, the thicker and wider the wall became in Margaret's own head.

Tuesday opened her hand, and Sunday slid his hand in hers as they stopped just in front of the park bench she was seated on.

"We have it all covered, Mom" Tuesday said.

"Washington, Texas or Utah?" Sunday said.

"Were do you want to go? "They both said in unison.

"How?" Margaret was a little stunned that they already seemed to know that they had been found. "It doesn't matter... this time is different he's using the law, there's a federal warrant for my arrest: parental kidnapping."

Margaret hoped they would understand what she was about to say, that it would be the right choice. If she thought for one moment that Ron could be proven abusive, she would take her chances and go to the law, but she didn't think she would get the chance. Her best bet was to run as far from the kids as possible, let them hide for the next four years, so that they could not be placed in the care of their father. She knew with every breath she took, that if she stayed at their side she would get them caught.

"I... I. know that I let you guys down for all of your life, that I was selfish, but now I need to be smart. I need you guys to stay clear of Ron for the next four years. If I try and stick with you he'll find us, and he has the money and influence to keep you both, and I won't be there t..to, well I just won't be there. So I need you guys to hide and stay safe."

"No" both said in unison.

"Look, you're the ones who have kept us in the clear for the last few years, you're both so good at it …...and I'm going to lead them away towards Florida in a few days. I'll let myself get caught. I'll have no idea where you are. Hopefully that will distract your father, make him focus on me for a few days to try and get me to tell them where you are. I should be OK, I'll be in jail, but at least Ron won't be able to get to me. You two need to keep safe for the next four years. In four years you'll be eighteen."

"So we're just supposed to let you rot in jail?" Again, both spoke in unison.

"Yes! I need to know you guys will be safe! If I'm around, I'm gonna fuck it up somehow, it's what I do always. So please just run! I don't need to know where to. Just make sure he can't find you." Margaret grabbed her bag.

"Sun, Twozy, I love you. I wish I had been better at being a mother to you both, but the best thing I can do now is to keep away from you. You two don't need to worry about caring for me. Go and keep each other safe."

As she looked at them both, she saw resolve form in her son's eyes. He went to step forward and reach for his mother, but Tuesday reached up to Sunday, gripping his arm in both of her hands pulling him back. He turned, and her head shook when both turned back to look at her, they both held the same gaze of disinterested acceptance.

"She's right, we are better off on our own. Same as we always have been Dayz."

Tuesday's voice held no malice in it, and that in itself broke Margaret's heart. Her daughter couldn't even muster anger towards her. The flat tone told her that she would never be loved even by her own offspring.

That was the last time she saw them. A week later in Miami, she had gotten herself caught good and drunk and high, and created a scene in a bar, getting herself arrested. She was questioned over and over by the police and the D.A.. Ron had even managed to get an interview with her, so that he could try and appeal to her, but Margaret simply said over and over.

"I don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

**So this whole story has been re-edited by the lovely and talented Muckyshoorm **

**if you havent read her stories or one shots go take a peek their a great read.  
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_**Dayz and Twozy**_

_**Two years later. Miami Florida, Alligator Alley, 1:30am.**_

"TWOZY! You wicked little bitch, you did it!" Sunday ripped open the car door, pulling her out and hugging her tight.

"Like I can loose. Please Dayz. Go get the pinks, keys and cash and let's get clear of this muggy ass state tonight."

Dayz disappeared into the crowd. Twozy sat on the hood of Marco's Skyline and lit up a smoke, watching the crowd. Smoke held in one hand, she used the windshield as a back rest, her other had tapped her thigh impatiently. By the time Dayz sauntered back thirty minutes later she had made her self sick chain smoking, a habit she only seemed to have when her brother wasn't in eyesight. As she put out the last smoke in her pack, Dayz came into view with a huge grin on his face.

Tonight's race would put them in the clear of their debt to Marco, the local king pin, and leave them enough cash to clear the state and finally settle the fuck down for a while. They had been on the run for the last two years. Just after Margaret had left them, they had headed out of Oregon to Utah. They rented a trailer, but had been too young looking to stay in the same place for too long before someone had called in CPS. It had taken her and Dayz setting fire to the CPS worker's desk, setting off the sprinkler system in the CPS intake building and some serious running to get clear before they could be identified.

Since then they had kept on the move. The longest that they had stayed still had been here in Miami, since the street races were a good way to make money. Dayz did most of the fixing while she drove, but they had hit a snag about two weeks back. They had had to ditch their cars to avoid being picked up by cops. No cars had put them in a forfeit on a race already set up for that night with the local big man, Marcos. They forfeited a $35,000 marker with twenty per cent vig.

To get clear of the debt, they had hustled at pool, done some quick transport for local gangs and done a few quick drug deals; something they generally stayed clear of. That had covered the daily vig, keeping their debt at the thirty five thousand. Without the drug deals they would never get clear. Plus Twozy loved seeing the look on Marco's face every fucking day she and Dayz popped in to his club to drop off cash.

Tonight the three races and all of the side bets that they had placed would free them of their Marco leash, with cash to spare, plus new transport. Dayz came walking back, a smile on his face. Twozy returned it, hands out, fingers wiggling. He placed a large brick of cash in her hand just as her feet touched down on the pavement.

"So I managed to sell off the GTO, I90E and the Viper. Between the three we cleared more than the debt, we're flush twenty on the cars, and with the side bets we have fifteen. We got the 69 Camaro and the bike put up by that fat guy as collateral. I'm keeping the bike you keep the Camaro?" Dayz asked with tilt of his head. He knew his sister, and he was sure she would do the practical thing; sure enough her next words confirmed it.

"Sell the Camaro if you can, we need a truck more. Saw a guy unloading a big Dodge Cummings at the start of the races. Go see if he's still around, might even be able to trade him. Be better for us to have if we're going to snowy Washington. Plus, all the shit we got back at the storage will fit, and we won't have to replace all the tools." Twozy was right but Dayz knew it was killing her to pass up keeping the Camaro.

"I was thinking the same thing about the truck, but you really like the Camaro, you sure? They are hard to come by. We could keep it, get a truck and a trailer, and just haul it up with us. We plan on staying put for the next while."

He knew before he finished the sentence that the idea appealed, and he also knew the moment she reined in her enthusiasm about having something she wanted, her smile flattering.

"No just go see if that truck's is any good. Trade the Camaro, or sell her off. No point in binding ourselves down with to much shit."

"Alright, take the cash, head to the storage. I'll meet you there Twozy."

Twozy slipped into Marco's Skyline and stuck the cash under her seat. She turned the car over and cranked up the stereo. Miss Nothing poured through the speakers.

**GOOD BYE**

After the time they got caught by CPS they had stopped renting in residential areas or staying in motels. In any city you can find a seedy little storage lot where people just want cash. You pay; they don't care what you do in it. Perfect for all the shit they did to keep in cash. They repaired or stripped cars that they won, and anything they could pick up free off of Craigslist. Late night trips to the recycle depot were always a good thing.

In every city they had spent any real time in they set up a fake ID shop, hitting the local high schools and infiltrating was ease. With both of them working, they could clear a few grand easy in a few days, and be gone before the kiddies got caught with one. Not that their shit was easy to spot mind you, it was just bound to happen when suddenly the same neighbourhood had too many drunk, stupid teens creating havoc.

The drawback to storage unit living was a lack of amenities. Having no kitchen was solved by always finding a BBQ the moment they got a unit. No bathroom was the worst; coping-a-squat was not her idea of fun, but hey, you do what you need to do to survive. They always found the local YMCA so they could shower and do their workouts, but still, after a race she would love to be able to take a long hot shower and ease out the tension from the adrenaline rush.

As she pulled in to the storage lot she felt her cell vibrate. That would be Dayz. Pulling it, out she saw his standard text 'ABF -10' (alive breathing free – ten minutes). She replied 'ABF – 00'. The 00 meant she was at the storage unit. They had developed a method of text speak, a mix of letters and numbers. To anyone else, the text would make no sense. Not that people ever got to read their texts, their cells were always disposable. The texting had started when their mom was still around, and they were trying to keep things under wraps from her. Their lack of trust was hard to give up, even after she had sobered up and gotten them free of the insanity of their father.

Her and Dayz rarely ever had to deal with other people, but had learned that they needed to create a fake little front for the underworld in which they worked. They were the 'It couple', no one had ever linked them as siblings. In the long run it had been better that way. It kept the sleaze players to a minimum for her. Dayz had steered clear of any of the girls who floated around the races. Instead, he preferred to get his pussy from the willing high school girls who all went for the bad boy selling fake ID. She was sure he did it because the possibility that he would ever run into them again was almost non existent, and the fact that they were in his age bracket.

Generally they both steered clear of really being overly friendly and connecting with most people. One thing they both knew was that until they were eighteen and didn't need to hide anymore, they could not have the luxury of friends or boy/girl friends. Neither of them were interested in the guilt or heart break. Twozy had had a few hot and heavy moments in random situations with both men and women, but had never gone all the way.

Staying unnoticed was the plan, but that became harder once they started winning in the street races. That was why they were dropping off the grid for a while. They were gaining too much attention, and eventually they would run into the law. The fact that they survived by breaking it made it very important to never be on that radar if they wanted to stay hidden from Ron. So far they had managed to steer clear, but here in Miami they had been forced to push their luck.

Now that they could pass for twenty-something, they would head to a small city, and settle down, and get jobs. They needed to create new identities for themselves and the best state to do it in was Washington. Their DMV still ran on an antiquated system that was independent of the national data base. That made it easier to create whole new personas.

Twozy pulled up the door to the unit and flicked on the lights, looking around. She started assessing what would be worth hauling with them. The big stuff like tools and laptops were all packed. What they always seem to struggle with was clothing, shoes and just every day shit. They could both be suffocated in clothing, it was some times easier to just buy new outfits rather then do laundry, given the way they lived. This resulted in a lot of clothing piling up in a short period of time. In the last two weeks she was pretty positive she had bought them both at least ten new outfits a piece. She figured that since they planned on staying put for a while, they might as well keep most of it. She started sorting, getting rid of anything belonging to Dayz that was overly grease-stained or anything she didn't really see herself wearing again, like a few pairs of shorts or the outfits bought to do some hustles along the beach bars.

Her rule was that it had to fit in one large army duffel. She tossed a few pairs of high heels and a pair of sneakers that Dayz had managed to cover in oil. They both had a pair of combats and they both had thick solid heavy duty bike boots that more often than not they could be found wearing. She debated on a pair of royal purple, thigh-high boots that she had bought on impulse. The color had caught her attention and she actually really liked them. They were totally trashy hooker boots, but they were the same color as her hair. They always dyed and messed around with their hair, but since they had been in Miami, they had taken to the more punk side of fashion, mostly because that is what she liked, and Dayz didn't mind her using him as a test dummy.

She grabbed their toiletry bags and rolled up the sleeping bags .The blow-up mattress, she decided, could stay. The unit had another two weeks before the rent was due. She suddenly walked out of the unit, heading to the fence line at the back corner of the lot where there was a set of bushes, calling out.

"Nina! Where you at woman?"

Rustling could be heard, and a small dark wrinkled face popped out of the leaves.

"Right here. What you want girl? It's middle oh the night, godang it!"

"Me and Dayz are leavin' tonight. Come on over and say 'bye' in a bit. Got a few things you should have OK?"

"Hmm, I don't need nothin' from you. What makes you think I need shit from you?"

"Don't think you need shit bitch, just don't need to be hauling shit around. Figure if I give it to you, Dayz won't try and bring every fucking little scrap of crap we got in there with us. So do a girl a favour, and come take the shit would yah?"

"Hmm, I'll thinks on it I will."

Nina popped back into the cover of her bushes. Twozy smiled, the old lady was cantankerous, but funny as hell when the mood struck her. She had wandered by one night just after they had gotten there, and they had been setting up to cook on the BBQ. Before they knew it, she had taken over, going so far as to send Dayz to the store for flour, corn meal and eggs so that she could whip up some biscuits. The woman could make anything on the barbie, as they had been learning over the last two weeks. She had become their personal chef, teaching them a few new recipes along the way, which were sure to come in handy.

Twozy came around the side of the units and spotted the Dodge Cummings, but her heart gave a jump when she saw the Camaro on a flat bed trailer hitched to it.

"Dayz?" Her tone a little perturbed.

"Shut up. You want that car. Help me get the trailer unhooked so we can load up all the lockers already Twozy. We need to get to the club in the next thirty minutes or we're stuck for one more night and an extra day's vig." Dayz said, without even looking her way, he was unwinding the hitch.

"Well come on. Get in the damn truck would you? Back it up already." Dayz was keeping his head down, hiding the grin he had on his face. Sometimes he just had to force things on her because left to her own devices, she would pass on anything she thought was simply a want or wish. She wasn't a stick in the mud, but she was logic first, desire second.

Once the truck was in position, he dropped the gate on the back of it. They had fluked across a garage just down the road that had been going out of business and bought three full mechanics tool lockers with all the tools they could need, including metric for imports and some air tools, for a song and dance. They were loaded up beside his new bike with Twozy's. A hand winch helped as he secured them with tie downs. Twozy mumbled incoherently as she loaded their duffel, rolls and a box that held some odds and ends of his for working on computers.

"Dayz we really don't need the Camaro or the trailer, it draws to much attention to us on the road."

"Already took care of that, paid Buddy extra to leave the insurance on for the next week for the trailer and the truck. He can't cancel it with out the plates. I'll have to mail them back to him once we're in Washington."

He was climbing into the cab as he said it, slamming the door. Her reply was cut short.

Huffing she followed the truck out and helped him back up, so that they could re-hook the trailer. When Dayz came around she grabbed him and hugged him tight, her 'thank you' mumbled into his neck.

"Girl! Let go of that boy, and come and give me all this shit you plan on unloading on my ass."

Their good bye to Nina was quick. Twozy shoved the keys to the unit in her hand and told her that it only had the two weeks left, but she could have all the stuff they left behind including the full can of coffee she liked so much; in which they had put three crisp hundreds for her to find after they had gone. Old bitch wouldn't take it otherwise.

They drove straight to the club. Dayz pulled up in the truck and double parked while Twozy delivered the Skyline to the valet and ran in to drop the cash. She walked straight through to Marco's VIP table and dropped the wad on the table. She gave him a two finger salute and spun around only to be spun back around by his 'roid monkey.

"Marco your car's out front and there's the money, so could you tell Knog to let me the fuck up out of here?"

"Word is, you and that boy of yours turned down tomorrow's pay day."

"We're takin' a break for a bit. Gonna go and enjoy some sun and surf, or snow. Relax yah know? It's been a busy, busy two weeks, Marco." She had to scream to be heard over the thumping techno Cuban dance music. Her tone of sarcasm lost, but it was evident in her facial expression.

"When you and the boy are done relaxin' and ready to get busy, busy again; come see me."

Marco turned back to the silicone Barbie on his left, dismissing her. Twozy smiled, and spun around heading out, all the tension that she had been feeling for the last week seemed to roll off her to the thump of the bass.

She was looking forward to finally being just Twozy and Dayz with none of the pressure that came from working the races and hustles. Miami was a great place for a quick haul of cash, the races and the criminal community was varied and abundant, but it was time to clear the fuck out. Shit they had a decent stash and a plan. She was looking forward to actually living someplace that had toilet goddammit.

Twozy jumped in the truck, with B.R.M.C. Whatever Happened To My Rock-n-Roll blaring. Dayz put the truck in gear as Twozy slipped her feet up on the dash, and tapped her foot to the beat. They were finally on their way.

**review? please?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**

**review are welcome suggestions on one shots?**

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_**ROAD TRIP**_

The quick two and a half day trip turned very strange. Never before had they had an eight day vacation. They took whatever route seemed to appeal in a moment's notice. Louisiana saw them on the red neck diet of crawfish, catfish and gator. Tennessee was pork, Kansas was beef, Colorado they fasted, Utah to Nevada into Oregon they gorged at any buffet they came across. They were in the last legs before they would finally be hitting Washington State. While they'd had a blast getting there, they both were looking forward to not having to climb back into the truck for a few days. Once they got to Tacoma, they planned on moteling it for a few days 'til they could find a place to live.

They were just clearing Portland on the I-5, when Dayz slammed on his brakes, starling Twozy from a dead sleep. It was late, and the stretch of highway was dark.

"What the fuck Dayz?"

"Taillight in the ditch. Think someone drove off the road." As he dropped the truck in reverse and pulled back on the shoulder a red taillight came into view in Twozy's window.

"Shit, looks like a bike." She popped the door open and jumped out. Dayz slid out behind her, reaching into the glove box and grabbing a flash light. By the time he had it turned on Twozy was in the ditch.

"Get the fuck over here with the damn light, I can't tell if he's a corpse or not."

"Hey Buddy you with us?" Twozy asked as she gently slapped him in the face. He was covered in mud. A set of bright blue eyes flickered open and tried to focus on her.

"Ahh fucking leg is killing me god damn." His voice was gruff and pain filled, but otherwise he seemed to be coherent.

"Your bike's got you pinned. Don't think I can lift it off man." Dayz said, shining the light on the bike.

"Fuck, I'm so fucking screwed." The guy said it with a laugh, causing her to look at him straight in the eyes, trying to judge if he was concussed. His bright ice eyes locked with her for a moment and she couldn't help but smile. The man was bat shit crazy. She went back to looking him over. Twozy followed the light. She saw that the pant leg of his jeans was soaked in a red substance. She reached down and placed her hand on the pinned leg where she saw the stain. When she brought her hand up into the beam of the flash light, she knew right away it was blood.

She reached for the guy's belt, never even thinking to say anything, just undoing it and pulling it free of it's loops.

"Hey baby I'm always up for a good time. I'm a sick fuck, what's your deal?"

"Dead men can't fuck. You're bleeding. I need to tie off the leg." Which is what she did as she spoke. He let out one pained moan as she cinched his belt just above his knee.

"Fuck! Yah they can honey, seen plenty of corpses you could ride silly. Man dies; his dick is the last thing to give up." He chuckled at his own humor, and laid back on his arms like he was just taking a break, not pinned under a bike in a ditch bleeding.

"You got a name man?" Dayz asked.

"Tig."

"Tig, we need to get you some help. Thing is we're gonna have to leave you here to do that."

"I smell bullshit." The friendly tone disappeared; he sat up a bit on his elbows and looked at them both with a hard look. "You gonna try and tell me you ain't got a cell? Shit I figured you had already called for help, but you haven't. Huh, that'd be good." He looked at them as if weighing his decision. "Listen kiddies Uncle Tiggy needs a favor."

Both Dayz and Twozy looked at one another and looked back at Tig, doing the once over. They noticed that the man had a knife strapped to his hip and his bike, while banged up, was not sissy and yipped out. The Dyna was meant for the road, not a week-end joyride show piece.

"Well Uncle Tiggy, if it means we don't have to stick around for a light show, sure spit it out."

Twozy stood up, and Tig dropped his head back over his shoulders, so that he could look up at her with the moon light spilling around her. She looked, well, the girl was pretty long, narrow in the waist, round hips and tits that sat at attention.

"Incest is bad right?" Tig lay back down on the ground sucking in air when the bike got shifted a bit by Dayz letting go of the handle bars and letting it turn just a bit. The comment had brought his big brother instincts up, but Twozy was still smiling.

"Guess play time's over. Look I need you to take my saddle bag and the roll on my bike to Tacoma Auto."

As he spoke, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cell. He dialled the club house in Tacoma.

"It's Tig. Put Hap on the phone dipshit. Hap gonna have the package sent by alternate means. Couple kids are gonna drop by the club house with it. Be nice, they were very good to their Uncle Tig. Nah man, I'm stuck under my bike in a ditch just out of Portland. Got to call the 911 folks, seems I might bleed out if I don't get some help. No problem. See you at the hospital, man."

Dayz and Twozy were a little intrigued at how this guy just seemed to not have a care in the world, then again, he just might be in shock, but Twozy didn't think so. She had taken a good look at his eyes, and she was pretty damn sure he was just plain crazy; but the kind of crazy she liked.

Dayz had been grabbing the roll and saddle bags while Tig was on the phone. He handed them off to Twozy. She looked down at Tig and held out her hand.

"What?"

"Unless that piece you have under your jacket is legit I wouldn't risk keeping it on you, and that knife ain't legal in Oregon." She watched as he unzipped his coat, she saw his cut and two white stripes of a patch, but she couldn't make out what it said.

He unloaded the gun first, and handed her the clip. He cleared the chamber, and then gave her the gun.

"Hey what do I call you doll?"

"Incest." She spun around and made her way back up the side to the truck. She tossed it all in, and climbed in to wait for Dayz.

Dayz looked down on Tig and smiled he crouched down, so Tig didn't have to strain.

"Hey, here's our cell, that's the best we can do for an insurance policy, but Tacoma will see us tonight, OK? Make the call."

"Do I call you incest too, kid?" Tig asked Dayz.

Dayz waved his hand and said, "Nah, I'll be cock block."

Tig threw back his head and laughed. Dayz stood up and headed up to the truck. When he got to the top of the ditch, he turned back and said, "Dial man." He waited till he saw Tig talking on the phone before he got in and drove off.

**Tacoma Clubhouse**

"Did he say who to give this shit over to?" Twozy asked though a yawn.

The drive in to Tacoma took them a little less than two hours. They had to GPS Tacoma Auto, as Tig never really gave them an address. They were parked across the road from what they both assumed was the right place. The barrel fires, music and the general milling of drunk, leather-clad men and skimpily dressed women at 3:30 am said it was the right place.

"Nope." Dayz replied.

"Well, let's just pull over the first guy with colors we find. Sound good?"

"Too many drunk assholes. He'll be calling, just wait 'til he does."

The twins had a thing about willingly stepping into any situation which they didn't have a basic understanding of. Neither liked to be in those situations, ever, but when you add bozzed up criminals, it became twice as hard to know which lines not to cross. Drunk people swung up and down in a blink. They just always tried to know beforehand how things worked before they ever went to join in the social aspects of any gathering where guns, knives and fists would be a solution to insults and hurt pride.

Five minutes later the prepay went off and Twozy answered by the second ring.

"Sick fuck?" Twozy smiled to herself when she heard him pause, sure he had been about to go off, demanding to know where they were and why his shit was not were it should be.

"It's Uncle Tiggy to you! Where are you?" Tig asked.

"We're here, parked across the road. Send someone to grab it." Twozy said.

"Why the fuck haven't you gone in yet? All you got to do is roll in. First patch who comes your way, tell them I sent you! Don't you know nothin'?" Tig asked in a duh flow of words.

"No, we don't, and that's why our asses are parked and waiting." She replied in kind. She could hear a female voice telling him cells were not allowed.

"Alright! Give me a sec, Florence fucking Nightingale." Tig yelled exasperated.

"Hap they're there." There was a low rumble of words in the background by a gravel voice that she didn't understand.

"Pull in to the lot. Lorca's waitin' for ya."

"Alright." Twozy said but the line went quiet.

"Fucker said to pull in. Guy named Lorca waitin'."

She leaned on the back of the front bench as Dayz started up the truck, and pulled into the lot. As soon as they were past the gate, they saw a big guy waving. He walked up to the truck, pulled open the door and gave them a toothy grin.

"I'm Lorca. Shove over kid." He pulled himself up and in. Dayz barely had time to slide over before the big man was behind the wheel.

"Lorca, there any reason you can't just take the roll and we can get to a motel?" Twozy asked.

"There is." And that was all he said.

Dayz looked over at Twozy and shrugged, silently saying whatever, go with it, not our business.

The twins had a standard rule they followed. The less they knew of others' business, the less problems they had with them. Right now, their attitude was get in, get out, no questions, no need to give answers.

Lorca pulled to the back of the lot and jumped out. They watched as he walked to the back of the truck. They could hear him talking to someone, and felt more than saw him unhook from the trailer. In less then a few minutes he was back, a bay door went up, and he pulled the truck in. The twins looked at one another, they got it. It was obvious to them that the club had eyes on them, which they were trying to keep off them not as a favor, but just to avoid having to trust an outsider, which both twins new instinctively they wouldn't.

Dayz looked at Lorca. "Guess the truck need some work huh?"

Twozy pulled the roll out from behind her and sighed as she tossed it over the bench between Lorca and Dayz. She then placed Tig's personals on top: knife, nine mil and clip.

"Yep." Again a big the big grin from the bearded man.

"OK, when will it be... fixed?" Both twins said at once, causing Lorca to look at both of them. Their tone more than stating that they got it, but were kind of pissed.

"Tig will call you, let you know."

"We need a few minutes."

Dayz reached over and pulled the keys from the ignition, unhooking the truck key and handing it to Lorca who was still studying them both very intently. He had started to reach for the keys when he figured out what Dayz was doing, he nodded his head, and the grin was back like he just found an Easter egg or something.

Twozy grabbed their duffel and handed it over after Dayz had jumped out of the truck. She grabbed her bag and their laptop bags. Lorca sat in the front seat and just watched as she reached under the back seat and pulled out a small tool box.

"Plates." Dayz reminded her. She jumped into the front seat, reaching into the center fold down console and pulled a set of Florida plates out of the fifty-odd plus they had stashed.

Lorca's eyes widened at the stash but again he said nothing.

"Match up right?" Twozy asked.

"Better."

Reaching into the box of computer shit, she pulled out a printer before she jumped down out of the cab. Lorca, who had said nothing the whole time, now looked like he was fighting off the questions flying around in his head.

While she had been gathering up their stuff, Dayz had pulled out the laptop, perching it on the hood of the truck, and was setting up the fake plates under the same insurance as the guy who owned the truck in the Florida State Farm database.

"We're good to print." Dayz said.

She had found an outlet for the printer and waited. Once the papers were printed, she handed them over to Dayz and put the printer back.

"We're done. What's the closest cheap motel?" She asked Lorca.

"Motor Inn, five blocks down. Got a name kid?" Lorca climbed out as he answered the question.

"Incest. Didn't Tig tell you?" She smiled sweetly over the hood of the truck.

Dayz stuck out his hand and said, "Cock block. Pleased to meet you, Lorca."

"Funny shit." Lorca chuckled as he shook Dayz hand, pulling him in close. The laughter died suddenly from Lorca. He became more then a smiling teddy bear.

"We need names kiddies, so let's just stop with the funny shit OK? I like you two, don't make me get all serious on your asses." Lorca said as he squeezed Dayz shoulder.

"Mary Ostler." Twozy answered.

"John Bakers." Dayz answered.

"See wasn't hard was it? Let's get you guys going, we'll get the truck back in a day or so. Tig 'll call yah."

Both the twins had pulled up their hoodies before leaving the garage. It took them a few minutes to get the Camaro off the trailer. Lorca had smiled as he watched Twozy do a little dance when Dayz had handed over the keys to her.

"I might ride bitch if my girl bounced like that for lettin' her drive." Lorca laughed.

Dayz smiled and said: "Ride bitch 'cause she won the pink on a holeshot. It's hers."

He slid in as Twozy turned her over, and the deep rumble of the tuned up engine drowned out Lorca's reply.

"Tomorrow, we need to find a place to put this baby through her paces. I'm dying to run her full out."

Dayz lit up a smoke as they pulled into the motel and said, "Alright, but now let's just get some sleep please. Remind me the next time I decide to be a good Samaritan…..that it's never a good idea."


	4. Chapter 4

_******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  
_

**review are welcome suggestions on one shots?**

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_**WAKE UP**_

Twozy opened her eyes to grey shadows on the ceiling, and had to take assessment for a moment. She remembered where she was. Reaching over, she shoved at Dayz sprawled out form. After years of sleeping in the same bed, they found that they didn't know how not to. They had their own blankets, but always shared the same bed even if the didn't have to. When they had lived in the trailer, at first they had each taken a room, but somehow always seemed to wind up on the living room floor side by side in their own blankets. The habit was now routine.

Dayz turned, snuggled in to his pillow and mumbled into it.

"Hey time to get up! Your turn to get coffee. Dayz get up! I'm gonna jump in the shower I need coffee when I get out, or your day is gonna be shit and you know it"

Dayz pushed up and gave her a nasty look, crawling off the bed like a drunk man. He hopped into his jeans as he stumbled into the bathroom.

"Fucking coffee around here's gonna be piss water after all that Cuban shit we just about main lined."

Dayz came out of the washroom, toothbrush in mouth, face wet, looking at her like she had kicked him in the balls. The thought of sugar whipped espresso shots no longer being available was a painful one to him and her both.

"Gonna have to settle for Starbucks." Their icky face mirrored in one another.

He turned back in to the can to finish up. Twozy stretched and crawled out of bed. By force of habit she rolled up both their sleeping bags. She dumped the duffel out on the bed, she had seen a laundry room last night and the thought of clean clothes just about made her giddy. She threw on a pair of shorts and grabbed a twenty out of her purse. Using the top tacky comforter from the motel as a sack she headed toward the door.

"Be right back. Gonna put our shit to wash."

As soon as she stepped out the door, she realized shorts were not outdoor-wear in Tacoma, and that she should have gone pee before getting all motivated by the prospect of clean clothing. She ran across the lot to the laundro-mat. She rushed to get everything loaded in four machines, her knees clenched and teeth clattering, the full bladder and cold not working in combination. She put the twenty into a change machine. Quarters gotten she rushed around getting the machines going.

By the time she got back to the room she was positive she was going to have an accident. She ran to the washroom and shoved Dayz out, who had been shaving.

"Hey! All you had to do was ask you made me nick myself!" Dayz shouted though the door.

"Well I just about pissed myself, so we're even! Why are you even still here? Go get fucking coffee, Dayz!" she yelled.

"Bossy ass! Fucking can't even shave in peace. Finally got a bathroom." The rest lost as he left the room.

Twozy sighed in relief as her bladder emptied. Still sitting, she tore off her shirt and let the shorts and drawers drop to the floor. Reaching over, she turned the shower on. Dayz had left his smokes on the counter in the bathroom. She reached over and lit one. She placed her feet up on the tub and watched as steam rolled out from the shower, just enjoying the feeling of having no one around for once while she bathed in luxury. She planed to relax. She began to hum a song that she liked by SOJA, The Rest of My Life.

Reaching over she added a little cold water to the steaming shower. She grabbed her toiletry bag and pulled out her brush. Her hair was a mess of knots. She needed to work though the hip length strands. She heard the door to the room open, but thought nothing of it. It would be Dayz back with the coffee, but she didn't care. She would better enjoy the coffee once she was clean. She jumped into the shower, revelling in the stream of hot water. The YMCA regulated their water temp to just tepid. It had been a while since she'd been free to set her own shower temperature. She took her time washing her hair and body. Scrubbing with an exfoliating body wash, she shed the last few days of road grime off.

When she was done, she dried off and reached for a bottle of cocoa butter, moisturizing her Florida sun-kissed skin. She wiped the condensation off the mirror and assessed herself in the mirror. She had large, blue eyes fringed with blonde lashes that she tended to coat in mascara. Her cheek bones were high. Her mouth was too full for her face as far as she was concerned, but the same mouth on her brother seemed to fit. She had hit five foot six and stopped growing, while Dayz was on the other side of six foot and seemed to still be going. They both had lean frames but over the last year she had developed hips and a decent size 38 B cup, Dayz had become cut and defined in muscle.

They both worked out almost daily wherever they were, so it was no surprise that they were fit. They both had taken to skateboarding and surfing when they spent two months on Venice Beach. Boards were one of the few things they seemed to always carry with them. Boards could be handy. That was how they had managed to get clear of the cops in Miami.

They had gone to a park to skate, as they reached the parking lot, they had spotted two squad cars and both their cars on a city flat bed. They had pushed their luck. Their cars were flagged by Miami Metro for street racing and evading police the night before. They had been about to walk away when the lady who sold hot dogs had pointed them out. The cops had come rushing at them on foot, so they jumped on their boards and hit the street flying between cars.

The cops were stuck. They couldn't run as fast so they had run back to their squads, the traffic blocked the cops. Meanwhile, she and Dayz cleared five blocks and jumped in a cab just as the cops had rushed by them. They had been breathless but they had laughed 'til they remembered they had put all their cash down on that night's race.

That race should have made them close to hundred grand leaving them free to not have to do shit. If caught, they were looking at doing serious time, plus it got them found by their father. The whole time they had been in Florida, Twozy had debated with Dayz whether they could risk going to Miami Corrections for Women and check in on their mother, but the risk of it was too high. Wiping the mirror one more time she looked at herself.

"Oh crawl out of your head. No point in missing what never was." She said to herself.

She re-wrapped herself in the towel. Grabbing a second towel, she put it over her head and started drying her hair as she left the bathroom, making her miss the fact that a leather clad man was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her to come out.

"I need you to go and put the laundry to dry I ain't got shit to wearrrrr-huh?!" She stopped dead in her tracks as she took in who exactly was sitting on the end of the bed, leaning his elbows on his wide spread knees, head up, watching with dark, hard eyes. The rumble that followed took a moment for her ears to decipher into words.

Hap's face was un-cracked there was no smile. He just stared straight at her for a moment, then gave her a once over coming back up to her eyes.

"Too bad you got the towel."

Twozy stood dead still looking at him. She was not a runner. She had learned from watching her mother and from her own dealings with her father that it did no good; that it seemed to fuel aggression-fed rage and let them win. This man screamed rage, aggression; and yet the timber of his voice had made her feel like she wanted to run him full out. Like when she heard the rumble of the cars she raced. She wanted to steer and guide it 'til the speed made all things blur and her heart would feel like it was about to bust, then she would take in air. The world would become nothing more then silence, speed, gears and instinct.

"You're with Tig right?" Her voice was steady, cool and she kept her eyes locked on his.

"We're Sons." He rumbled back.

"Alright. Then how's Tig?" As she spoke she made effort to relax, her tone cheery.

"Laid up." He was back to giving her a once over, his eyes fixed on her shifting, exposed legs.

"So you are?" The question brought his eyes back up to hers.

"Happy." His head tilted a bit back as he said it. His shoulders seemed to roll and spread wider. She saw white teeth as he grinned for split second she thought, but wasn't quite sure.

Twozy wasn't sure what she should be feeling right in that moment, she just knew that the only feeling she did have seemed to be centered in her lower abdomen and it was warm electric feeling, tingly. Just as she was contemplating dropping the towel, Dayz burst though the door, coffee tray in hand. Very much like her he stopped dead. He seemed to take it all in, and moved into action. He put down the tray, ripped off his shirt and walked straight at her. He had it over her head in three seconds.

She pushed her arms out of the holes and just looked up at Dayz, nodding, letting him see that she wasn't scared or even upset. They both took a breath, Dayz spun around to look at Happy, blocking his view as she turned and went in to the washroom.

Before she closed the door, she leaned her head out and said: "Nice to meet you, Happy."

The biker was starring at Dayz, he seemed to be assessing how to best cut him apart. Dayz, to his credit, did not flinch or flicker, he simply stood his ground and waited, his face expressing curiosity as to his presence.

"Boss wants both of ya." Happy said as he stood to his full six foot three height, the few inches forcing Dayz to look up as he nodded his head and said:

"We'll be there in about an hour." Dayz walked past him, grabbing the door knob, he opened the door and held it open while reaching back to the coffee tray. He put the tray on the TV, pulling his cup free.

"There anything else?" He asked as he took a sip and held the door open.

"Nah." Happy walked slowly towards the door, stepping into Dayz as he walked out, forcing Dayz to take a half step back.

"Be seeing you, Boy." Happy said over his shoulder as he headed to his bike.

Dayz took in Hap's patch, the Reaper below the Sons of Anarchy top rocker pulled at him. Shaking his head, he closed the door to find Twozy on her tiptoes gripping the door, trying to keep the biker in sight as the door closed.

"Twozy what the fuck?" He asked with an exasperated tone, his arms out and coffee in hand. Twozy smiled, walked up, stole his coffee and plopped down on the bed crossing her bare legs.

"What? You like big titted, dumb squealers. I like big, hard and fucking mean."

The look Dayz gave her at her words was a cross between disgust and amazement.

"Please keep clear of that man, he's more then just mean, sis" Dayz said reaching for the other coffee.

"Where the fuck are your clothes by the way?" His eyebrow reaching up into his hair line as he posed the question.

"In the washers across the lot. Need you to go put them to dry please." She smiled sweetly as she headed back to the washroom. Deciding that today was a make-up day, she went in to apply, leaving Dayz staring at her retreating back.

"God dammit! You better be out of there before I get back. I plan on being in that shower for at least a half hour, brat."


	5. Chapter 5

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


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**CHURCH**

Lorca, the Tacoma president, Bowie, the vice president, Donut, Happy, Knuckles, Riggs and Kozik: the Tacoma Chapter 1% were at the table with Tig and Juice, who had finally caught up with Tig. Juice had been with Tig, but his bike had started mis-firing just as they made it in to Nevada. Tig had left Juice with the Devils Tribe to fix the bike and kept on going to make sure they met Tacoma's delivery time. They had been running guns up for Tacoma who were having a little trouble with keeping stocked. Primarily, because Happy was the go-to for all five chapters, but also because Tacoma was the chapter that supplied the Triads of Vancouver, a place where firearms were hard to come by.

Their supply was low due to having to wait for the Irish to clear up some delivery issues in the Seattle port, forcing Tacoma to delve into their personal stock. Asking the Triads to wait was not an option. The Triads had a very small window in which they could get the guns across the border.

"So how the fuck did you end up in the ditch?" Bowie asked.

"Fuck man. All I remember is my back end sliding out. Next, bitch is smacking me." Tig shrugged his shoulders. His leg was propped on a spare chair. He was leant back, smoking as he spoke.

"What the doc say?" Lorca asked.

"Tore up some calf muscles; said to stay off the leg for a few. Mild concussion. Doc said I was really lucky I came to when I did. Seems I had a 'steady, deadly slow leak'. I nicked some main vein. Slap happy bitch did me a favor tying it off. After the kiddies took off, I was in that ditch for another twenty five minutes. Could've bled out if she hadn't caught it." Tig had started the sentence jokingly with air quotes for the doc's words, but by the end he was serious in his acknowledgement of the girl's help.

"How you decide to trust punk ass, civi kids is what gets me." Kozik said shaking his head.

"Ain't civilians." both Tig and Happy said.

"I got to agree. They don't act like civilians, little too cool about shit to be civvies." Lorca said.

"Juice what did you come up with on them?"

"Mary Ostler and John Bakers. At first look they check out. No record on the girl, boy's got a drunk and disorderly. Mary's got a couple parking tickets, John a few speeding tickets. But the moment I dug in, turns out they don't really exist. Whoever set them up with the ID's is good. Most looks wouldn't turn up nothing; traffic stops, that kind of shit, they'd pass no problem. The only reason I saw it was I looking for it." Juice answered.

"So what you're saying is we still don't know shit." Bowie said leaning back flicking his Zippo.

"Nah, we know they ain't wanting no face time with the law, and I'm pretty sure they do their own ID's, same as they do fake insurance." Lorca chuckled.

Happy sat up and leaned in to the table causing every one to turn his way.

"We keep 'em close. They did the club a good turn, but they got shit on us. 'Til we know they ain't gonna be trouble, we keep 'em close. Can't feel like it's a lock down, though, or they'll just run. The boy's got tools; put him in the garage to work. Where he's at, she's sure to be close, and if he got skills in tech, be good to have around."

Happy looked at every man at the table. All except Tig looked a little shocked by Hap's statement. Hap's favorite response to the unknown was generally 'dead better then worrying'.

No one got a chance to reply as the church door opened and a prospect put his head in saying: "They just pulled in Boss."

**SHOW DON'T TELL**

Both Twozy and Dayz had spent time rolling around the scenarios in their heads. The fact was that even though they never looked in the roll, they knew it had been holding guns. They knew the Sons had taken guns over state lines. Fact was that they were a liability, a small liability, but one just the same. But, unlike other criminal groups, the MC seemed to judge actions, reactions and individuals, and neither of them had given them reason to feel that they would be a risk so far.

As Twozy pulled into the lot Dayz gave her a run down of what he thought they had coming their way.

"They got three plays. One: dig us shallow graves. Two: pull us in, keep us close 'til they know they can let us go. Or Three: they dig up what they already know we're trying to hide and blackmail our asses."

Twozy drove to the end of the lot giving them time to talk. She turned down and headed toward the row of parked bikes. She had the same thoughts as Dayz, but had broken it down to one.

"Shallow grave is more risk than what we pose, so that's out. Blackmail might be on the cards, but I figure they pull us in first, and get info so they can know if we happen to be a problem. So, we either accept whatever offer they come up with, or we cut them off and just tell them a little and ask for a favor."

"What kinda favor?" Dayz asked sceptically.

"A job, a legit one. Well, legit to whoever we are gonna be here in Tacoma." Twozy said.

"We are gonna need to tell them something Twozy." Dayz said, a little frustrated by her flipness.

"We're Dayz and Twozy, same as we have been for the last while. We give Marco as a ref. The rest we stick close to the assumed truth." Grabbing her bag, she swung her door open.

"Game time, I guess." Dayz muttered climbing out of the Camaro. He walked to the front of the car, grabbing Twozy's hand and pulling her along behind him as they walked in to the club house. Their eyes adjusted to the dim lights in the dark panelled room. They saw tables with chairs around them, a pool table in the center of the room, a few sofas around a stripper pole and a wall covered in what looked to be mug shots; and just past them a set of large heavy wood doors with the Reaper carved in them.

Their eyes were drawn to a guy with shaggy, shoulder length black hair behind a bar. The guy was emaciated; he looked like his skin was pulled over a skeleton. Dayz looked him over and walked in towing Twozy behind him. He went straight to the bar and sat down on a stool facing the doors. Twozy followed his lead and sat beside him, but she swung herself facing into the bar and leaned into Dayz' shoulder, resting her head on him. She smiled at the guy who was mostly staring at her tank top clad, bra-less breasts.

'Hey we were told Boss wanted to talk to us? He around?" she asked.

"Make yourself at home. Be a bit, they're in Church." He said turning to the shelved bottles behind him. She saw that his cut only held the prospect bottom rocker. He grabbed a bottle and turned back to the bar; placing a row of shot glasses down the length of the bar along with the bottle.

Twozy looked over at Dayz who had now spun around. The prospect looked at them both. "Beers?" he offered pulling up two.

Dayz nodded. Twozy reached for them and turned looking out at the room.

"All right if we play pool?" Skinny guy just nodded and stuck his chin out in the direction of the pool table.

Passing Dayz his beer she asked "Who's?" as she inspected the sticks on the rack. She chose hers and passed one over to Dayz. He looked at it then back at the rack nodding his approval at her choice.

"It's yours." Dayz said as he chalked up. Twozy set to racking up. She rolled the cue ball across the table a few times.

"Tilts. Bottom left." They said at the same time, catching skinny guy's attention. He wandered out from behind the bar and parked himself on a stool and watched.

Twozy broke, the balls scattering. She called her first shot and in less than two minutes, cleared her balls. Dayz never made it to the table. He broke next and cleared the table in the same fashion.

"Banks only?" He asked as he sunk his eight ball.

"OK." Twozy replied and set up for the break. The two became so absorbed in the game that they failed to notice the doors opening and the guys coming out. They all wandered out to the bar and joined the prospect in watching them play.

"Jump shots." Both said at once when the last bank shot was put in by Dayz. Lorca took that moment to clear his throat and grab their attention. Both turned back to the bar and seemed to be in sync their movements. Eerily to the onlookers, they both turned and placed their sticks to rest on the table, meeting at the end they walked to the bar, hands sliding into one another's.

"Incest and Cock block, how are ya?" Tig asked, his leg propped up on an extra stool. He leaned back, elbows on the bar, smarmy grin in place as he took a sip of his beer.

Twozy wasn't sure why, but Tig just made her all giddy, like she was on a sugar high. Maybe his crazy was contagious. She returned his grin. Looking around she took in all the faces and how they were all looking at them both.

"Uncle Tiggy." The grin that spread across her face gained her a few odd looks from the guys. Tig held out his arm and waved her in for a hug. She glanced at Dayz as she slipped her hand free of his. She stepped through Lorca and one of the guys she had yet to meet without hesitation. She slipped under Tig's arm and wrapped her arms around his chest, her head bent under his chin. She squeezed and felt him kiss the top of her head and mutter "Thanks kid." The words were muffled but sincere.

Letting go, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked back to Dayz, once more reaching out for his hand. Dayz was the one to get the ball rolling.

"Wanted to talk?" Dayz only seemed to have a vocabulary when speaking to her, other people only received the bare bones required to convey his thoughts.

"Let's start with some introductions. This here is Bowie." Bowie nodded his head causing his dark brown shoulder length hair to fall forward. His eyes were hazel. Twozy noted, as he pushed the falling locks back, that his hand was heavy with rings. He seemed to be in his early thirties, she noted his rank VP.

"Donut." A nod was given along with a lopsided grin from the biker who was beefy and short, not fat as his name would imply.

"Kozik." He gave them a big grin and waved his hand once with a blue eyed wink directed at Twozy.

"Knuckles." A large man, line backer wide, his hands large and thick, gave them a disgruntled look.

"Riggs." The youngest man was baby-faced compared to the rough and gruff men who stood beside him.

"Juice." Juice waved as he was introduced and seemed to be keeping himself from jumping in place by rolling back and forth on his feet instead.

Lorca pointed to the prospect behind the bar who had been pouring shots and handing them out as required as Lorca did the introductions. "The prospect goes by Bones."

"Happy, Tig you've met." Lorca said as he looked at Dayz meaningfully leaving the floor to him.

"Dayz." He placed his hand on his chest and cocked his head in her direction.

"Twozy." She finished.

"Prospect Go." It was Happy who gave the order. Bones moved from behind the bar and out the door at a fast pace.

"Sit." Lorca pointed to a set of stools at the end of the bar. Dayz sat in the first one, moving it slightly forward in front of the second, and placed Twozy behind him on it.

"Kiddies we need real names." Lorca said sternly.

"We don't have any other names. Who we were born, they're dead and buried and they need to stay that way." Dayz said his voice firm.

"You want to know who we are right? Those are the names you'll need" Twozy finished.

"Who exactly is it who's supposed to know you?" Kozik asked.

"Marco Cavaliero." They answered in unison; the raised eyebrows told them that they knew who they were talking about.

"What you're running from, it personal or...otherwise?" Lorca asked.

"Personal. We just don't want to be found is all." Twozy answered.

"Oh for fuck sakes just spit it out already. The fucking twenty question game is boring me." Tig yelled out his head dropping back as he rolled his eyes.

Dayz looked at the group of men. He had this urge to tell them the truth, but the truth could have more then a few different repercussions, more for Twozy than for himself. The couple act had saved her more than a few times. Her looks and her abilities had brought attention to her that she didn't even know about. Marco had offered to take her for the debt; Marco wasn't the first either. As much as they tried to keep out of the cross hairs, wherever they went mixing in with the criminals of any given area ended up being necessary.

In Chicago the Russian's had seen her playing pool and invited them to dinner, taking them to a private club where a group of men had been interested in playing against her. At the time they had been clueless as to that interest being a danger to them. One of the Russian working girls had taken him aside and told him that the boss thought his girl would be a great addition to his stable and what that would mean. He would have lost her that night, and his life in the process, if they hadn't snuck off out of a storage room window.

From that point on he had become very aware that his sister, as far as most were concerned, was a commodity. He didn't feel like the bikers in front of him were a threat to her, well except Happy. He was a walking screaming threat, not just to her, but anyone who had eyeballs. Dayz got the sense that these men had a code of honor, a bond that was not about dollars, but about them as individuals who shared some common belief. It was evident in their bearing and interactions.

"The how and the why don't matter in the long run. All you need to know is we're sixteen year olds who don't want to be found."

"Sixteen! Shit you're jailbait Incest!" Tig cackled.

"You two ain't new at survivin'." Happy was staring at Dayz as he made the statement.

"Surviving. That seems to be a lifetime class for us." Twozy said with a sigh.

Happy's gaze shifted and found hers. She felt her insides cinch at the intensity of his gaze. He seemed to be looking for something. She felt as if he was reaching in and rummaging around in her head and she found herself offended. Dayz was the only one who got to dig into her. She found herself pulling up and stepping off the stool to stand at Dayz side, her arm weaving into his.

"We survive for one another." Twozy's words were hard, ingrained with a lifetime of faith in her brother. Her gaze never left Happy's, even as Dayz finished their mantra.

"We breathe because the other exists and nothing ever is gonna step between us."

They had said that to each other when their father beat their mother or when he came to them when mom was too gone in a drink and pill popped oblivion to notice the games he liked to play with his children. How he tried to tear at their bond and use their love of each other as a weapon against them. His games never left a physical mark that could be seen, he liked to tear at their souls, trying to find in them the beast he was. He hated that they, unlike their mother, would not break. That they had a power he could not rule. If they had known that visual evidence of a physical attack on them would have motivated their mother to action, they would have pushed him to it sooner.

"Wow kiddies. Nobody's lookin' to step in nowhere OK. Relax." Kozik said with a little laugh. He knew what had made the girl's back go up. Hap, he was sure it had been something in the killah's eyes that had made her tense suddenly. On the hole she had come across as light and playful, but in that moment he had seen a woman, who loved and killed for that love. In that moment she had seen a threat in Hap somehow and had stared down the killah like he was prey. The part he didn't get was that Hap had let it slide, he had looked away.

"Look. How long have you been hiding from who ever it is you are hiding from?" Kozik asked.

"Four years." Dayz answered.

"Holy shit! You were twelve when you left home?" Juice posed the question in Twozy's direction a little incredulously.

"Would've done it sooner if I could have." Twozy said with a sigh. She looked at all the men and went on. "Look we had a plan, come to Tacoma and lay low. No hustle other then creating our new ID's. Plan was to go straight and narrow, a little legit education. We worked hard to have enough to float for two years if we were smart with it. Miami? Well let's just say we got a little over exposed and it cost us a lot. We managed to make up some, but not enough to not be looking to pad the bottom line. We figured we could get jobs and, well Dayz can fix anything with turning parts. So we were wondering if you might need a mechanic. We want to stick to the plan. We're tired of constantly looking not just for the right hand, but the left as well. Can't hustle, race, gamble, scam without running into a) someone who wants a cut if not the whole fucking pot or b) the law."

Twozy saw a look pass between all of them as if they could not believe their luck. Except for Hap, he was shaking his head, staring at a shot of whisky in front of him. Twozy decided that it was the point where she needed to step back. She felt it in the air, he was letting them slide.

"Hey why don't I go have a smoke outside? You guys can talk, you know, see if maybe you think Dayz might be worth hiring, find out what he knows." She reached over and kissed Dayz on the cheek, hand cupping his chin. She walked out.

"How the fuck you manage to keep that out of trouble?" Tig asked as he stared at her jean-clad ass, earning a smirk from Dayz who waited till Tig made eye contact to say: "Vigilance."

"Girl looks like her, most times she gets noticed it ain't good. She's got skills too. Can't be easy on a guy trying to keep her safe." Bowie said.

"No kidding." Dayz chuckled and ran his hands over his head, through his hair, shaking his head. The look on his face was not in sync with his tone.

"Plan, that your solution?" Happy asked.

"Yah." Dayz answered.

"So you want a job. You any good?" Lorca asked.

"Need to learn more but I ain't ignorant either." Dayz said shrugging.

"We'll talk it over. Come see us in the morning." Lorca told him.

Dayz gave them a salute and headed out, wondering to himself if it wasn't a better idea to just get the hell out of Tacoma.

Happy looked at Tig. They turned to one another both shaking their heads.

"You see these boys' faces." Happy said, making the guys look and tune in.

"Little bitch is fucking smart. What the hell was that look man? You should b dead." Tig said.

"First time I seen her just react." Happy said.

"Ohh the fucking plan. How she just slid that in, cut us off, all sweet and shit." Tig slid his hand down.

"What the hell are you two on about?" Lorca asked.

"How we just got played man! Those kids worked us! We were gonna offer a job, they asked." Tig said.

"We wanted names, didn't get 'em." Happy said.

"Wanted to keep them close, they offered to stay." Tig shrugged.

"Man those two got it down pat. We look at the girl; he sits back and works out how we work. They ain't out to be a pain in the ass Lorca, they just don't know how to not look for the upper hand man. They been doing shit that is all about keeping people engaged. They give you a whole front and you swallow it, 'cause it's all about what you see. For them, it's about what they hide. Best play we make is to let him come work, see how they play it out. They try get close we know somthin' ain't right. They stay to themselves, they're just looking for a little quiet." Kozic said.

"That's sounds like a plan. Still need to talk to Miami. That check's out, kid gets the job and it plays out like that. Juice, make the call." Lorca said.

Happy was nursing a shot, rolling the amber liquid as his head rolled through all the contradictions that he had seen from the girl and boy. He was missing something that should be obvious. The fact that the girl was just a kid bothered him more than anything because in the brief moment he had managed to peak in to her, her eyes had reflected dark and cold, pain, hate, love and determination and he knew that look; he saw it every day when he looked in the mirror. Her love for that boy was like the commitment and love he held for the club, unwavering, fierce, loyal and dangerous to anyone who thought they could threaten it. The leashed rage he saw in her called to him and repulsed him. Shooting back the whisky, he shook off all the thoughts. He'd just have to see how this all played out. Strangely enough he hoped the kids were, just as they said, hiding out.


	6. Chapter 6

**TIME TELLS**

Confirmation from Marco had Dayz in the shop the next week. He and Twozy had needed a week so they could put their ducks in a row, get IDs, find a place to live and transfer over the car and truck to their new selves. They had gotten Juice to help, showing Juice how they set up the whole new identities. Dayz and Juice developed a friendship of sorts over the two weeks it took for Tig to be healed up for the ride back to Charming.

Now, a year later, Dayz and Juice often played online with each other. Happy had gone with Tig and Juice to Charming and spent most of his time going back and forth over the last year. The twins had developed a routine at first so that they were clear of the club, showing them that they had no interest in anything other then being settled.

Dayz over time became liked by the guys. The club members found that of all the guys in the shop who were not brothers, Dayz never needed to be put in place or directed when shit came around the shop. He minded his p's and q's, did his job and didn't get in their way, but had no problem getting his hands dirty if a problem came up.

What really got him noticed was how he was managed to hang with Knuckles. Even brothers were careful of Knuckles, he had a swing that left you unconscious and, unless you were a Son, you did not get a warning. Working with the man in the garage was an adventure. He was a hell of a mechanic, but had no patience with the tight space and the close proximity of people. On a good day he just yelled and tossed shit, on a bad day he knocked people the fuck out.

Dayz could spend the whole day in the garage with Knuckles and not end up bloody. Even more amazing to Lorca, was the fact that Knuckles seemed to be OK with the kid asking questions and looking over his shoulder when he worked on the older bikes, something no one, even brothers could manage. Dayz spent his lunch hour in the ring with Knuckles. Often they could be found working on some random piece of forgotten history that Dayz would dig up off the lot, bikes, an old drag racer; earning him the nickname 'Fixit'.

Dayz liked the time he spent at the shop. On more then one occasion Knuckles had tried to get him to come around for the weekend bashes, but originally he and Twozy had stayed clear because that was the plan, to show the club that they were not interested in anything more then a little peace.

It resulted in a tension in Dayz, he was a seventeen year old guy who had discovered sex at fourteen and a half with a Russian hooker after all. It had been while since he'd managed to get a little action. Most of the girls around the club house had tried to get his attention, but they were older, the biggest objection he had was the air of desperation coming from them. They reminded him in a way of his mother, which definitely was a turn off.

Bringing Twozy around meant putting on the show and Dayz really didn't want to grind in the lie. It was Twozy who solved the issue. She volunteered to go clubbing. She could dance and he could find company. They went to Seattle to avoid running into people, on the whole it worked. He'd get numbers, she danced and sometimes collected a few numbers herself, but the fact of the matter was Twozy never really was interested in getting to know people. Where Dayz had interaction with other people, she never sought anyone else out for company and camaraderie.

People, for Twozy, needed to serve a purpose. She was not someone who liked to have people close enough to know anything about her. When Twozy interacted with people they met a lie. She was a chipper, happy girl who didn't have a care in the world, no dark secrets, no fear.

If Dayz let her, she would avoid all human contact other then his. It was why he had pushed her to look for work in a place that forced her to be around people, hoping that at some point she might connect with someone she felt could spend time with the way he enjoyed Knuckles and the guys at the shop. Twozy had gotten a job tending bar at a trendy spot called Angels. She worked there Wednesday through Friday and when needed she covered a Saturday night. Dayz coming along and hanging out for the shift was a common thing.

They had both joined the local gym and worked out three or four times a week, usually boxing. The eight hour separation when Dayz worked five days a week at the garage had taken some adjustment for both of the twins. They had become manic texters at first; the lack of each other was hard to adjust to, especially for Twozy who had eight hours in which she was left to her own devices.

Eventually she filled her time by becoming the DIY project queen, a necessity for the little run down house they had gotten less than a half mile from T.A. The two bedroom cottage was an oddity in the industrial landscape that had, over the years, grown around it. The old house had evergreen pine trees that perpetually dropped needles out back, covering the stench of rust and oil from the surrounding junkyards.

Twozy had started by fixing the stand-alone two bay garage and turning it in to a shop. The roof had needed replacing which started her off on finding out about roofing which required her to find out about carpentry. She became a home repair addict from TV shows to books. She took the time to study what needed doing and how it should be done, finding which materials were best suited. Once she had the theory secure and understood, she would find and expert in the trade she needed and dissect their brains under the pretence of looking to hire for a job.

Dayz became amused at her obsession, but like the good twin he was, he helped her. First by updating the electricity, then by finding free tools or cheap ones that he could repair. In less than three months the work shop had become cluttered enough that she had to take out a back wall and add on to it. The twins found most of the materials free, or traded off things they had collected when hunting for materials, or simply refinished what the house already had.

The kitchen cabinets, hardwood floors and door frames of a solid oak wood were sanded and stained. The bathroom was enlarged and refitted, though they kept the original claw foot tub and paid to have it re-baked with new porcelain. They installed a stand-alone shower and his and hers roman-style sinks.

In the last year they had slept in the living room, only bothering to furnish themselves with a bed and dressers and a very large flat screen TV to go with the X-box. They still bar-b-qued most of their food despite the cold and wet climate, and only had two of everything. However, once most of the interior of the house was repaired, Twozy and Dayz found that they had no clue what they should do about furnishing it. This was due in part to the fact that their minds were not geared for such things, the whole fixing up the house had been more about being busy and learning than it was about making a home.

**splitting the atom**

Twozy and Dayz enjoyed learning. The twins were adaptable, resourceful and intuitive .They may have left school in seventh grade, but they were probably more educated then most people, let alone your average seventeen year old. Their survival depended on their wits. They studied at life, experience developed their skills, the doing cemented their knowledge; unlike most who memorized and regurgitated from a book.

Twozy, now out of repair work, turned what she had learned towards furniture making and refinishing. Again it was about keeping her head and hands busy. Dayz was in bed playing Assassin's Creed and she was going over a plan to build a farmers table with benches for the kitchen out of some old barn planks they had scavenged a while back.

"Dayz. Is that plainer fixed yet?" Twozy asked while chewing on her pencil.

"Nah. Need a part and new sand belts it gonna hafta wait sorry." Dayz answered.

"Shit that sucks. Was hoping to spend the weekend cleaning and prepping those boards we got from the barn." She sighed.

"Knuckles' birthday bash is this weekend, we could do that."

"Dayz... the whole having to stay in game mode around those guys, not really into it." She said shaking her head.

"Gets kinda creepy huh?" Dayz put the controller down and turned in her direction.

"yah! It does." She said with a laugh.

"What if we came clean?" Dayz had been thinking about it all day. He had a real friendship with Knuckles who had been pushing at him to bring his girl around to spend some time with the rest of the guys. Knuckles wanted Dayz to prospect. Knuckles wanted to be his sponsor at least that is what he had told him today after telling him to come to the weekend bash and gotten the usual response of "Oh we got plans." from Dayz.

Twozy had put down the pencil and her pad. She seemed to be curling into herself, bracing for some kind of physical blow.

"What? Why?" Confusion lit her eyes.

"I think we can trust them. What do you think we're gonna do when we turn eighteen? Pack up and leave? Shit what do you want to do when we turn eighteen? I like the guys, I like what they are and it's not like we're gonna go get an education or lead a life that ain't of our own choosing. We both know that neither one of us could go straight forever. It's been driving you crazy and you know it. No hustle, no adrenalin, no planning, no pretending. I see you at work running the same scenarios through your head I do. Let's face it, the quiet life is not for us."

"So you want in? You want to prospect? That covers you Dayz but leaves me out! They don't do female size cuts in SOA, it's Son's only! Being a Son means loyalty to the club first! Are you telling me you...I can't… Dayz... I..." She shot out of bed and ran straight out the front door. He heard the truck rumble and peel out before he could even get his bearings.

"Shit! Fuck!" Dayz got up and got his pants. Pulling out his cell he called her, but her cell was ringing in the kitchen. "Fuck!"

He'd had the whole conversation in his head all day, but never had he thought about Twozy as not part of him. In his mind he saw both of them having the club. A place they would belong where they weren't alone.

But she was right. The club would take him, and by default her, as a member's family, would extend protection and friendship; but she would never be a member. She wouldn't be included in the not-so-quiet life, that fed the Sons, not that he really knew what all that was.

All he knew was that the men he spent his days with had a sense of self that could only be found in men who had courage, honor and a sense of how the world was a place to be lived as an individual, not as sheep, and they were willing to fight for that freedom.

They would never be yoked in politically correct, unrealistic, fake, civil community, bullshit rules. The line of the greater good was only for the good few who had the greatest power...money. Money had hidden the fact that their mother was beaten. Money had hidden that their father was a sick asshole. Money had left them standing in the presence of their father after they had gone to the law for help.

In that moment Dayz felt his chest crack; all the years of pain suddenly trying to make its way out of him. His sister was the one thing he needed without question, but he had been hungering for more, and in his greed to have what he wanted he had betrayed the one person who never caused him pain.


	7. Chapter 7

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


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**PUSHING DOWN GREEN BEASTS**

Twozy was in hysterics. Not screaming and ranting hysterics, but cold, deadly, uncontrolled jealousy.

Her head was full of boiling venom. She wanted to hurt the Sons. She wanted them all dead. There was no logic to her hate. In her state of mind, it was all just dormant feelings that had come up because Dayz wanted to leave her. The tears had dried and she had started thinking of how the Sons were trying to take her brother. That had brought forward her father's mind-fuck games and how he had wanted to do the same thing to them; tear them apart, make them hate one another.

It made her think of how she'd had the living shit beat out of her for not caving to her father's demands that she give up Dayz, and Dayz screams as he took belt after belt laid across his legs whilst she was tied to a chair and made to count out his licks. He would never give the answer their father wanted.

It made her think of all the times their father would force them to hurt one another so that he would not separate them. The days when he took Dayz away and locked her in her room; all while their mother was in oblivion or screaming from her own nightmare at his hand.

She was in Oregon before her brain regained logic and shoved all her crazy back. She became aware that she was losing her damn mind and that she need to turn the fuck around and go back to Dayz and figure out what it was that was happening. This last year had provided a new perspective of what life could be for them. Dayz was right to want more out of life then just her, he was always telling her to get herself out of her head, that he need her to find more then just him as a reason for breathing. Somehow the last year had allowed Dayz to develop as an individual; while she was still in a blood connection forged in pain, desperately clinging to the twin state as it had always been.

She wasn't missing the action of the life they'd had for the last few years, she was missing Dayz. After all they had gone through as kids at their father's hand, the twins had become immersed in each other. They developed and grew only in mirror, they developed the same skills, interests and tastes; spoke the same patterns of words.

Dayz had been able to develop new skills and wants because he allowed people in, whereas she had climbed into her head and locked it all down. At work at the bar she was Gwen McCann, a slightly dry humoured bartender who smiled and laughed and had an amazing guy who came to work and hung out just so he could spend time with her.

No wonder her brain was fucked. She had no clue how to be anything other than what she needed to play in that moment of time. On her own she became manic, filling every moment alone with busy work, the house or scavenging.

She knew her brother hadn't meant that he was walking away from her, but at first it was all she could see. Dayz finding a life with out her in it had swung at her like a bat. Taking a deep breath she noticed that the tank was on empty, taking the next exit she pulled into the gas station and reached under the seat. Lucky for her they always kept cash stashed in the truck, or she would have been up a creek.

It was bad enough that she was in black, boy cut undies and a tank top, her combats untied and flapping as she went to pay. Her long purple hair, loose and wavy, caught the attention of the attendant, a trucker and Happy. He had watched as she jumped from the truck. For a moment he wasn't quite sure if he was seeing right, it been a while, hell almost a year now since he'd seen her last.

He capped his tank and watched as she went up to the night window to pay up. He wondered why she was out here at two a.m. alone, but still, she wasn't an old lady so wasn't his business. Her outfit definitely had him wondering a few other things as he watched her rub her arms, waiting for the guy working to pass her a pack of smokes and some change.

He noticed a young guy who had already hit Happy's shit list when he had flown by in his Viper on the highway, music blaring and none too steady on the wheel, coming up to the gas station. He watched as punk ass walked up behind Twozy. As she was getting ready to turn, the punk grabbed her ass with a comment Happy didn't quite catch. As the trucker started his rig up, all he saw was the girl turn slow and smile. Happy felt his gut clench at the smile.

She stepped into the asshole, put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him in, sliding her hand to behind his neck, her moth to his ear. Happy saw what was coming and cringed as her knee drove right into the dickhead's crotch, the punk dropped and she stepped over him and walked back to her truck and started pumping her gas. Happy swung his kick stand down, got off his bike and started crossing the three pump lanes to her truck. She was keeping an eye on the guy as he raised himself up off the ground cussing her out.

"You fucking whore! I'm gonna fucking kill you! You dumb bitch!" He was still bent over, but making his way towards the girl. She didn't seem to be worried, matter of fact, she looked like she hoped the idiot would actually manage to get over to her before she was done pumping her gas.

The punk never did though because Happy walked up and grabbed him, pulling him up straight so that the punch he threw hit him square in the nose.

"That's for being drunk on the road asshole."

The second punch was straight to the chin and the punk folded on noodle knees at his feet.

"Hey Happy, what was that one for?" Twozy asked as she walked up to him.

"Being a grab ass." He said as he turned her way.

"Nah, I gave him that one." She was all goose-bumped and shivering, her teeth clamped, but she was smiling at him.

"What you doing out here like that?" Happy's hand waved up and down her body.

"I drive when I'm pissed." She shrugged and shivered all at once.

"The boy know were you're at?" His eyebrow raised at her.

"Nah, left my cell." She said.

"Call him.'" He said as he reached into his cut and passed his cell over.

Twozy dialled and held the phone arm's length as she waited for the call to go through. Dayz picked up on the first ring screaming. Happy just grinned and shook his head.

"Where the fuck are you? You're in underwear for fucks sakes." Dayz screamed.

"I'm alright, heading back now. Might be a bit, I ended up in Oregon."

"OREGON! What the fuck?!" Her arm was back out, holding the cell at a safe distance as Dayz went off again.

"Dayz! Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning." She flicked the cell closed and handed it back to Happy.

"Thanks. I'll be seeing you around Hap." She turned and went to her truck, waving, and hit the road. Happy's single head light followed her all the way back to the house. The rumble of him turning and leaving once she was in the door caused her to smile.

"Big, hard, fucking mean and chivalrous huh."

She locked the door. She felt Dayz come up behind her. Turning slowly she waited for him to go off, but he didn't. He looked sad and confused. Twozy sighed as she stepped passed him to the living room. The air between them was thick with tension, an odd thing never really felt by the twins with each other. Dayz followed behind her. She could tell he wanted to say something, but after the last four hours of self reflection and analysis she didn't have the energy to talk, she wanted the oblivion of sleep.

"Dayz, it's OK. We'll talk in the morning. My brain's fried. I can't do this right now. Right now I need sleep. OK? Please, just give me a chance to sleep."

"OK, Twozy. You know I love you right? That I never meant to be soo…." Dayz didn't even have the words to express himself, he just knew he didn't want to feel like he had hurt her. He didn't like the look of caution on her face when she looked at him.

A smile spread across Twozy's face and the tension in the room seemed to evaporate. She stepped into him and hugged him, her face muffled in his chest as she said: "I love you too."

Whatever happened in their odd ball life, they had each other.


	8. Chapter 8

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


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**How to play the odds**

Lorca tapped his smoke in a repetitive motion as he stared off into space. His mind was filtering things around, trying to come to a clean resolution for the problem at hand which he had been presented with less than an hour ago by the Triads. They had called needing a delivery ASAP.

All Lorca knew was the club would be in the black and padded for a few months if they could make it happen, but he was stuck on the how. The Triads were under too much heat from the RCMP in Vancouver to do their own border crossing like they usually did. This time they wanted delivery. They were more then willing to pay and pay dear for delivery, but really Lorca didn't know if he could risk it in today's tech-heavy world. None of the guys could cross the border without taking a major risk on getting busted on the return trip, due to the facial recognition software the US border guard used. They'd get the guns in, but on the way back they had a ninety nine per cent chance of getting busted as they all had records.

"Bones. Go tell the boys I need 'em in Church." Lorca put out his smoke.

"Alright boss." Bones jogged out from behind the bar to go get the guys in for Lorca.

Lorca watched as Bones went through the doors, although he was still very skinny, at least now the boy had some meat on him. The last year as a prospect had done him wonders and it reminded Lorca that the other topic for Church would be his vote in, and what hang arounds to bring up for prospects. Lorca was a firm believer in swelling the ranks, but he did it with caution. Every year they took up to five prospects, but that didn't mean they made it in. Bones was the last man standing this time around.

Lorca grabbed a beer and headed in to the chapel, taking his seat as the guys all started coming in. Lorca watched as they all head to the bar, pulling up a beer and dropping their cells as they wandered in. Once they were all seated and the door was closed Kozik piped up, as was his way.

"What's up Prez?" Kozic asked.

"Got a call from our friends in Vancouver. Seems they're having some problems and are in need of a delivery...on their side of the border."

"What they offering for the delivery?" Knuckles asked.

"Three times the price and prepay on next month shipment. Any body got any ideas on how to make this happen?" Lorka looked around the table.

"How much time we got?" Happy asked.

"They need it by ten tomorrow night. We got the stock, just can't see a way clear to do it."

"Sad part is, we probably have no problem getting in, it's coming back that's the bitch." Riggs said with a huff of annoyance.

"I know a way we could do it. Means placing trust outside of the club though." Knuckles said.

"Who?" Lorca asked.

"How?" Was asked all around by the rest of the boys.

"The kiddies. The how's on them. Kid told me a story bout him and the girl running a few pounds BC finest back over the border. They got the connection, plus the ID's they got set up should be clean." Knuckles said.

"Fixit been running drugs?" Lorca asked with a sharp look at Knuckles.

"Nah, this was before they settled in here or with us." Knuckles answered.

"Must'a been a few years back then." Riggs said.

"Yah, but Fixit said his girl keeps in touch, just in case they need to clear out."

"The girl? We gonna pull'em both in? Fixit, him I got some faith in, but the girl, she's ….unknown" Lorca said with scepticism.

"Always a two-for-one with them, at least by how the boy talks."

"Lets talk to him first, see what's what and go from there." Riggs's said.

"He ain't in today. Called in, said he need the day off." Knuckles said.

"It's a risk going outside the club any time but..." Lorca was cut off by Happy.

"Boy might be up for a little separation. Him and the girl had some kind of blow out last night." Hap said. He looked at the table as all eyes turned his way.

Donut was the one to ask: "Happy how the fuck you know that? You just got back this morning." His voice barley holding the laughter. He was always amazed that Hap seemed to have information or all the club gossip, not that the fucking asshole ever said shit unless it was of relevance, but you could always count on Hap to not have missed a fucking thing.

"On my way in I ran into the girl. She was gassing up the truck at the I5 station in her underwear and beatin' a drunk asshole who got fresh." Happy shrugged.

"Underwear?" All the guys asked with variations of leering expressions except; Knuckles his question drew Hap's attention.

"How she do?" Knuckles leaned forward to look at Hap.

"She ain't a freak-out queen; cool as ice she pulled the asshole in, nailed his nuts into his throat 'n' dropped him. No screaming or show. Pretty sure she wanted him to come at her again, but I cut him off and put him out cold. Asked her what she was doing out and she just said she drives when she's pissed. Asked her if the boy knew were she was at. Had her call him from mine. He was on the other end screaming about how she left in her fucking underwear." Hap said, smiling a little at the memory of her shivering form with her arm out holding the phone away before the boy ever answered, a resigned smile on her face, looking right back at him. He liked the fact that the girl always looked him right in the eye.

A few times when he'd come back to Tacoma he'd seen the boy in the shop. He'd asked if the kiddies ever came around to the parties, at first 'cause he wanted to make sure they weren't gonna be a problem, but now it was just about wanting to get a glimpse at the girl, her long legs and her hard, closed off stare. Happy wanted a chance to see if he could get the girl ruffled again. It wasn't often Hap met a female who got him intrigued. He knew he'd never be able step in between her and the boy, he'd seen from the get-go they were welded into each other. Still, sometimes it was satisfying to push at someone who, like him, kept shit wrapped up, unlike the rest of the world did. It was fun to irk them and see how much control they had. The fact that she was hot when she had her back up, that was a bonus in his mind. Lorca's voice pulled him back to the conversation at hand.

"Kiddies ain't even eighteen yet. We really gonna pull them in on this Boss?" The question was coming from Donut.

"Don't know. Maybe we can just see if they can hook us up with a way in, but the fact is the club needs the cash, and future business with the Triads could be at stake."

Lorca said with a sigh. He really didn't know how he felt about pulling the kids in. It wasn't because he thought they were too young, he knew if they had managed to be on their own without getting caught up on either side of the fence with trouble that they could handle a simple drop. He wasn't sure how he felt about what and who the SOA did business with being known, not just speculated at; that made him a little more then nervous.

"So let's see what Fixit has to say. Knuckles you give him the call after Church." Lorca gave the order. Knuckles nodded and Lorca continued talking.

"Other thing we need to be looking at is Bones. We gonna patch him? And have we got any hang arounds worth looking at for sponsorship?"

Knuckles shrugged his shoulders and kept his peace. He wanted to bring the boy in, would be proud to sponsor the kid, was sure he wouldn't wash out, but he didn't think now was the time to bring him up. Fixit seemed a little uncertain when it came to the club; mostly Knuckles thought it had to do with the girl. He saw in the kid the man he would be, the boy was all that Knuckles would want in a brother, all he had hoped his own son would have been had he managed to live. It was why he liked the kid, loved the kid. Somehow, in Knuckles head he had replaced the dream of the son that died with one who was not his by blood, but was all the things he would have liked to help raise in his own son.

When he spoke to Fixit about comin' around more and joinin' the club he'd been a little disappointed in how Fixit had pulled back from him and shut down almost. The kid had become guarded, a look had appeared in Fixit's eyes that hadn't been there in months when he talked to Knuckles. Maybe if this deal happened and the boy helped, he'd see that the club would fit him, that the life of brotherhood and family was what he and the girl needed. The club could be the family they had never had.

Lorca looked around the table. All of the boys seemed to be holding back, like they wanted to say something, but weren't sure if they should. Happy was the only one who seemed like he had nothing to say.

"When the fuck does not one of you have somethin' to say?" Lorca asked, frustratedly rubbing his head as he looked out again.

"Alright, at least give me the votes on Bones. Mine is Aye" Lorca said.

"Ayes" were heard in unison all around the table.

"Alright Knuckles, make that call, get the kid in. Let's see what's what."


	9. Chapter 9

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


**review are welcome suggestions on one shots?**

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**Sputtering Conversations**

Dayz had woken to Twozy that morning with coffee in one hand and their gym bags in the other. She'd shoved the coffee at him, then sitting on the edge of the bed, she'd strapped on her boxing boots.

"We got shit that needs to be fixed, so let's go get it done. I'll be in the truck." Was all she said as she walked out the door.

Dayz got up and pulled on his own boots. He was dreading the next few hours.

When Twozy's head got muddled with shit the only thing that broke her out was violence, receiving and dishing it out. As fucked up as she had been the last night, he was sure this was going to be bloody for both of them.

This was the left over glitch from life at the hands of their father. They both bottled up and held in all the anger and hate 'til they choked and sputtered in their heads.

Twozy, more so then him, needed to be forced to purge. The only thing that seemed

to flick her switch over was pain.

He'd originally gotten them into boxing because they needed to be able to defend themselves. The first time they had jokingly gotten into the ring to spar; he had found that his sister, who would die for him and loved him, also had hate for him for what she had suffered at his hands at the direction of their father.

With each punch she received she spewed out her resentment, with every punch she connected she forgave. He had figured out that Twozy couldn't let go of things unless they were truly beaten from her, knocked loose by bloody, physical pain.

In their first year of freedom they had worked through most of their daddy issues in the ring. There had only been one other time she had really gone at him in the ring recently, that had been after she had found out that he had been keeping tabs on their mother and sending her cash. The financial support wasn't really the issue, but for hiding it from her she had given him a black eye.

This last year Twozy had been crawling into her head more and more. He had watched it and he had known that at some point he was going to have to make her let it loose, but he hated doing it. When they went into the ring and nothing was between them, he loved it. They had fun, laughed, tried to outdo one another and always ended up on the mat exhausted and laughing.

When it was about un-glitching or making her get unstuck he hated it because then the fight was real, and in his head it took him back to all the anger that had been forced on him. All the shit came up and he'd have to focus on not letting all the pain that should be received by their father connect with Twozy's flesh instead. The hate he had for that man found its way up out of the blackest depths of his nightmares and just tore at him, leaving him undone and cold 'til Twozy again pulled him back, found the right words to give him peace.

Dayz pulled the front door closed as he imagined explaining the black eyes he was sure to have the next day. "Shit! How do I explain to the boys that a girl kicked my ass? Fuck!"

As he climbed into the truck his cell rung, pulling it out he looked at Twozy and ignored the call, tossing the cell on the bench seat of the truck. The door was still open, he looked at her hard.

"Twozy …why can't you just spit it out?" He asked, anger at her boiling up in his voice.

"I can't do this shit with…" Dayz' cell was going off again and this time it was Twozy who just picked it up and answered it.

"What?" Her voice was exasperated.

"Course 'cause he didn't take the day off right?" Sarcasm dripped. Dayz jumped up and yanked the cell from her.

"Hey Knuckles. Now's not a…" Dayz was cut off by Knuckles.

"Club needs your help." Knuckles' voice was firm as he made the statement.

"Knuckles man I'm …" Dayz voice was cut short and Twozy could hear Knuckles grumbled growl, her eyes rolled.

"Kid, we don't call on outsiders for nothing. Just get your ass to the club!" Knuckles voice was raised and hard, not a tone Dayz got from him often, making him realize that whatever was going on was important.

"Alright. We'll be there in five." Dayz sighed.

"Leave the girl." Again Knuckles had a hard edge to his voice and it got Dayz back up. He liked the old man but who the fuck was he to tell him shit about Twozy?

"The club needs a favour, it's both or none." Was Dayz' reply, his voice flat.

"Just get your asses here now!" Was Knuckles gritted reply.

Dayz hung up, his face set in a hard line as he looked at Twozy, who turned over the engine while giving him a ' I told you so' look.

"Wanted just you right?" Twozy snarked.

"Club needs a favour, it's from us both or not at all!" Dayz pulled the door shut and lit up a smoke as Twozy hammered down and pulled out to the road.

Dayz stared out at the passing road, his hands sweating. He knew once he and her got in the ring and punched it out she would find balance, but him, he didn't know if he could keep it all in line. Dayz was filled with conflicting emotions and Knuckles' call had added more.

Now Knuckles voice telling him to leave the girl seemed to be joined in with his father's, but he needed his sister like he needed air to breath and the same went for her. It wasn't just how they had grown up. If anything that should have made them tear away, instead it cemented them, fused them further than their genetic twin inclination ever could have. Twozy was what he needed to not lose himself and become the twisted monster his father had sought to create in his image.

His sister was the only thing that had tainted his father's plans. She was the glue to his mortality, to his goodness. The love he had for her more chaining than all his father's manipulations, punishments and mind-fucking games of bribery. Had their upbringing been peaches and cream maybe they would have been close, but he didn't think they would be so ingrained in each other.

"I don't need to fucking get my ass beat and I don't need to pull all that shit up and beat your ass for me to get your point. I got it alright? Tuesday?" The use of her given name showed how seriously he felt.

Her response was to hammer down on the gas and shift up a gear. Her eyes glared at the road. He saw her mouth open and close like she was trying to say something, but it was wedged in her throat. When she finally spoke it was in a ragged breath like the words stabbed her at each one uttered.

"Can't get loose of it Dayz….. It's dug into me…. Fear…. It's a lit up flame…. my fear is burning through my fucking skull. I need you to make it go away…. Please." Her voice was soft and pleading at the last.

"Let's get shit with the club sorted, then _we talk_. If you still need to get in the ring after, I'll do it OK?" Dayz reached over, grabbing her shoulder, looking at her as they pulled in and parked in front of the club house doors. Knuckles was outside waiting, smoke hanging from his lips and looking at them with an angry stare.

"Talking? Really? Which one of us has the pussy Dayz?" Dayz mouth fell open and he shoved her laughing, the tension leaving him.

"Fucking smart ass."

"Knuckles looks like he could be looking to talk, meet you inside." Twozy said as she jumped out of the truck. Dayz leaned back and watched as she brushed past Knuckles.

"Looks like I'm bound to get punched by someone today." Pushing the door open he nodded at Knuckles and slid out of the truck, hands in his pockets. He made his way over to the old man.

"Knuckles." Dayz said cautiously.

"Your girl, she been safe this last year right? Then why would you bring her into shit?" Knuckles asked, his arms crossed, shoulders back.

"I can't explain this shit right now Knuckles. I got stuff I want to tell you, but right now ain't the time. Just know me and her, we're a pair."

"Look. I get that you love the girl, but she got you pussy whipped if you think her being in is more important then her being safe."

"Nah man, it's her right hook. Definitely not her pussy." Dayz walked past Knuckles ending the conversation, but the disgusted tone had Knuckles confused.

"Right hook? Not pussy? What the fuck you talking about kid?" Knuckles followed him in only to stop and stare at Twozy who was at the pool table. All the boys were lined up at the bar watching as she took shot after shot, all the balls sinking as the boys called out the numbers in order. As the eight ball went in Bones called out: "twenty three seconds."

"God fucking damn it!" Bowie thumped his hand down on the bar.

"Shit!" Donut huffed and reached into his pocket.

"Gimme the watch. You ain't reading it right" Riggs grabbed at Bones' stop watch.

"Fuck me she did it!" Kozik said, as he slipped bills out and counted.

"Quit bitchin' and pay up assholes." The gruff rumble came from Happy, his hand out collecting cash from all the boys.

"So Happy, what we pull in?" Twozy asked as she racked up again.

"Three hundred dollars kid."

"So boys, whose pockets are deep enough for the next round. I'll clear the table in three combos."

"Nah, I'm good hun. I'll lose my money to a bi….ahhh chick the right way. At the strip joint." Kozik said as he grabbed a beer.

"You're slippin'. Your time's up by two seconds Twozy." Dayz said as he walked the rest of the way into the room. Knuckles went to the bar and Bones handed him beer.

"Tilts bottom left, not my fault." Twozy stuck her tongue out at Dayz.

"My share says you can't do better?" She threw the challenge out to Dayz who shook his head at her.

"One ass kicking a day Twozy, that's my limit." Dayz said as he swung his arm around her shoulder and whispered at her.

"Alright. Play time's over gang! Bones. Take a run out to the garage, make sure shit keeps getting done." Lorca barked as he came in.

"On it boss." Bones' long legs got him out the door at a fast pace.

"Clubhouse clear, no strays in back?" Bowie asked, looking at all the boys, his eyebrow raised as he looked at Kozik.

"Nah, let her loose before Church" Kozik chuckled dryly, he was never going to live down leaving a sweetbutt tied down to his bed one night when shit kicked off; even though it had been more then a few years since it had happened.

The guys all grabbed a bar stool. Twozy and Dayz took a seat, side by side, legs swinging as they both leaned forward on their thighs, hands clasped on the pool table. Happy stood leaning in the frame of the Chapel doors. He watched the kids settle in and adjust themselves into place. Their movements pulled at Hap's attention.

Lorca was telling them what the club needed from them and as he watched their faces something clicked in his head. His gaze focused, he wasn't listening to Lorca. The room seemed to be humming, all his attention focused in on the pair. Their expressions were identical. At one point, they both leaned back and adjusted themselves on the table and it was like watching a dance, their movements synchronized.

Both held the same slow, languid pace and grace in their movements, but it was the moment they both turned and looked at him. That was when he saw that they both had bright blue, grey eyes that were identical in brightness and intenseness. That was when the missing piece fell into place for Happy. Their eyes both assessed him, a bold calculating gaze. Their next words confirmed his suspicions, their intonation and clipped lilt of words synchronized.

"He can pass for Cree." Twozy and Dayz both caught his intense stare; it was dark and hard and seemed to be boring through them. The twins popped off the table and stood, not sure what had him pissed at them, but their instincts were screaming danger.

Both swallowed as they looked at Happy, as he pushed of the door frame and stepped towards them, his gait long and slow. He stepped up to them, all the boys were a little confused by Hap's shift in mood.

"You got one chance to come clean." His voice was a low, rumbled warning.


	10. Chapter 10

**TRUTH**

"What they need to come clean about Killah?" Lorca asked his words hard and threatening as he stepped off his stool and walked up to them.

The tension in the room brought all the boys up off their perches, each leaning or standing so that they had a better view of the twins in front of Hap's tense shoulders.

"Huh. I'll have to add observant to your list Happy." Twozy's words were said softly as she stepped forward past Dayz and placed her hand on Hap's chest, pulling his intense stare away from her brother. Her protective instinct was mirrored in Dayz as he reached and placed his arm around her waist, as if to pull her back. Twozy grabbed and squeezed his hand stilling him.

Hap's gaze came to her slowly. His head dropped down an inch, his eyes flickering over her hand on his chest, following her arm past her shoulder. He seemed to pause to flick his eyes over the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck before he connected and locked eyes with her. The stormy dark depths made her breath catch. She held his gaze, her eyes untutored and wide letting him in. There was a moment between them, an unasked question by Happy, who seemed to find the answer in her. She felt the tension ease out of him.

"Dayz. You wanted to come clean. Looks like you get your wish." Twozy said, her hand sliding away as she turned her head over her shoulder, looking at her brother with a resigned acceptance.

"Fixit, what you need to come clean about?" Knuckles rumbled in a low growl. A touch of disappointment could be heard by all the boys.

"It ain't bad. Ahhh, we, umm, fuck, how the?" Dayz didn't know how to explain it, the jumble of words falling from his lips aggravated Twozy.

"Oh for fuck sakes we lied. We're twins not a couple! There. Now we're clean." As she said this she stepped back and sat back at the pool table. She pulled Dayz back as well; both back to leaning on their legs, hands folded, feet swinging.

Knuckles suddenly stood and stepped up to them, his eyes jumping back and forth between the two of them. All the boys were doing the same from various points around the room. Hap still stood were he had been, but now there was a strange smirk on his face as he looked around at the boys and their reaction. Riggs was the first one to finally say something.

"You two ain't never like….. you know?"

"NO Riggs! We're brother and sister." Both twins rolled their eyes at him, disgusted at the same time, making Riggs blush.

"Why lie to us?" Donut asked, his fingers tugged at his beard as if it would give his brain a pull.

"Started with Russians wanting to kill off Dayz and keep me as a pet. After that we started playing at the couple thing. I'm claimed, less questions, less side stepping. All the shit we did was always with …lets say 'chauvinist minded' groups? Didn't always work, but made it just easy enough to manoeuvre with out someone trying to lay claim." Twozy shrugged.

"So why keep it going for so long with us kid?" Knuckles was the one who seemed to be the most pissed.

"I didn't want to create too many open doors for people to poke their nose where it don't belong." Twozy took a look around the room, her eyes resting on Knuckles last, her voice hard and accusing.

Dayz jumped up cutting off her line of site to Knuckles and his to hers. "Go grab the laptops, we need to get going if we're doing this." He turned to Lorca. "You still want us to do this?"

Lorca looked around the room, all the boys' nodded. Knuckles took a minute, but he gave a nod in the end.

Twozy jumped off the table which brought her back to being just a few inches from Happy who was silently watching her as she moved. As she went to step past him he grabbed her wrist stopping her exit. Happy felt her slip back, no resistance to his touch, no tension in her limbs. She simply stopped, her head facing the door.

"Need somethin' Happy? His hand tightened around her wrist enough to make her turn her head over her shoulder and look at him in the eye.

"Name." His voice was a low and even rasp of demand; it seemed to spread through her, pulling her lips up in a smile.

"Twozy is short for Tuesday Renton." He let go of her with a nod and looked over at the boy.

"What day are you?"

"Sunday." Dayz replied.

"Shit, and I thought my parents were mean for calling me Herman." Kozik huffed out.

Twozy had kept going as soon as her wrist was free. As soon as she was out and Dayz heard the truck start he looked around the room. He wished he'd thought better of staying, but he knew it'd be easier to get this out of the way now rather than let it sit and fester.

"Mean ain't what we had for parents. Dad is a twisted fucker. Only time I ever saw that man smile was when he managed to make us draw blood." Dayz was looking at Knuckles. He needed the old man to understand that he hated the betrayal he saw on his face every time he looked at him.

"Made _you_ draw blood?" the question came from Hap. The words had caught his attention and he spat them back at the boy, his gut telling him he wasn't gonna like what he heard.

"Made us beat each other, or made us watch as he beat one of us, but that was the least of it." Dayz finally looked around a small sad smile on his face. "Mom told us, once she was sober, that on the day we were born we were wrapped around each other, tied up in our cords. We almost killed mom and had to be delivered by C section. She said me and her were inseparable from the womb.

Growing up all we knew of good, was each other. All around us was hate, chaos, secrets, pain: mom screaming, mom stumbling; all caused by our rage-crazed, twisted asshole dad. For him the beatings were a small part of the picture.

Dad, he used our love, used it like a weapon. He wanted to shred us, break us, separate us. Don't know why, but he hated that we were so close." Dayz voice dropped and his arm pointed figure wagging out as he mimicked his father's words.

_"I do it or you do it. I'll take her away. You'll never see her again unless she got stripes." _

Dayz was choking on his emotions. When he looked around all eyes were on him.

"What you dished out wasn't as bad as his, made her hate you just a little in his eyes." Knuckles reached over and grabbed a bottle, poured a shot and handed the bottle over to him.

Dayz slugged back straight from the bottle, the burn made the rest of his words thick and deep.

"He'd lock Twozy up for days and days, make me go with him to all these places that as a kid you want to go with your dad, ball games, park, arcade. He'd try and make me hate her. He'd promise me the world if I just stopped loving her. When I wouldn't; he'd beat me in front of her, trying to make her say she'd give me up. She never said it: stubborn brat even then." He took another pull on the bottle, the whisky making things spill out easier.

"I don't ever remember seeing my mom sober 'til after the day she found me and Twozy patching up in the bathroom after a really bad night. Twozy, she took the worst of it. Dad wanted me to beat her with a belt and I wouldn't do it, so he took it to me first; but Twozy, she stepped in and wrapped herself over me, wouldn't let go. She had gashes on her side, scars are still there. I had to take tweezers and pull bits of her shirt out of the cuts from the buckle."

Happy handed him a smoke, his face tight, jaw clenched. It made Dayz feel like he need to finish. He stood up, his head shaking as he paced, bottle swinging as he motioned with his whole body.

"See dad never hit us in the face. Can't hide that kinda damage, not that it would've mattered. He'd've found a way clear. We tried getting the cops; he paid them off. We went to the school; he blamed mom, sent her to rehab. That month was a whole lot of fun." His dry chuckle was followed by another swallow.

More words spilled and every man in the room felt a strange sense of desperation for the kid. They saw how he felt, how he took the blame and shame for guilt that was not his to be burdened by. They watched as he became angrier and more spilled out of him.

"Mom usually got the worst of it, but was too drunk or doped out to be of any use to us. The night he lost it on us? After beating Twozy he yanked me up and was dragging me out the door, screaming at me about how he was gonna lock her up and I'd never see her again…. the one thing that …..that's when she picked up the belt. She could barley stand. She never even hit him with it, but he smacked her clear across the room. She hit the wall. She slid down so fast, there was blood everywhere on the wall, on her face.

I thought he'd finally done it, killed her! Taken her away… I flew at him, managed to get one punch in before he had me down on the floor. I saw his fist and then it all went black. I woke up to Twozy shaking me, telling me we had to get up. Dad, he was on the floor…. wasn't dead, but she had knocked him out with a left. Didn't come back 'til morning. We watched the asshole leave for work.

We were cleaning up when mom stumbled in. If me and Twozy would've known that she'd sober up if she ever saw what he did to us, fuck man….. but we never had faith in mom. To this day I think she thinks that was the first time he laid hands on us. She finally came through. She sobered up and started sneaking money and selling off shit. Me and Twozy had a hell of a time keeping clear of dad, but every time he'd start screaming for us mom focused him in on her.

By the time we had enough to run away, mom was the worst we ever saw her. We were worried he'd kill her before we could get out of there, but she kept saying she needed more money or other dumb shit excuses. We had to slip her a sleeping pill. We packed her in the car and got the fuck out."

All the whisky and the words stopped and Dayz began to shake, trying to hold back but he couldn't.

"I got it kid. It's alright." Knuckles pulled Dayz into his chest, hand on the back of his head, his other hand pounding at his back.

"Let it go kid. None of that shit is on you or the girl. All that shit needs to be paid up by that piece of shit." Lorca's voice dripped with contempt.

"Ain't that the truth." Bowie agreed.

All the guys were shifting back, the intense emotion slowly settling down around the men.

"What happened to your mom? Why ain't she with you two?" Riggs asked.

"Dad filed parental kidnapping charges, caught up with us in Oregon three years back. Mom told us to keep running; went down to Miami and got herself caught. She's in FWC 'til next year when we can get her free of the charges, if I can get Twozy to agree." Dayz had calmed down. Knuckles still had an arm around him, but the boy kept his head down, wouldn't look up.

"Kid! Hey! Pull your head up. No one around here gonna think less of you for a few tears and a hard life! Shit. Get Bowie on a Friday and the man's a blubbering mess, hugging a empty bottle." Kozik said as he jokingly shoved at his VP.

"Not as much of a mess as you are when there's no pussy around asshole." Was Bowie's reply.

"Shit, no pussy, every man in this room starts bawling, even Happy." Kozik countered; his laugh loud and boisterous as he threw a thumb over his shoulder in Happy's general direction.

Happy's arms shot up over his head as he went towards the club house doors with double birds flipped making Dayz laugh.

**Not hitting the wall**

Twozy had been back for a while. She was just outside the door, tears running down her face. Her brother's pain and guilt stabbed at her, tore at her, but more then anything, she felt fear.

Fear because Dayz needed to be loved and accepted, and he deserved it, but that was her place, or it had always been her need to meet in her twin and he did the same for her.

She had a strange feeling that this unburdening of himself to these men meant that he wanted their acceptance, their love. He wanted to be sheltered in the embrace of the reaper. That meant that she wasn't enough. She'd fought her whole life to be with her brother, to keep him.

The panic set in and her heart raced, choking her with fear. The same fear that she felt every time the door to her room would slam shut and the lock would turn.

She slid down the wall, her head spinning, a full-on panic taking hold. When she heard Dayz' laugh, his deep throated baritone, the sound pushed her further into her irrational state. She curled into herself, head to knees, arms pulling them in tight, trying to compress her chest, to hold in her pounding heart.

When Happy walked out the door he noticed the girl and registered that she was losing it. Her body was shaking slightly from the strain she placed on her muscles. He heard the rasp of air fighting its way in and out, in rasped swallowed gulps.

Happy looked in and thought of calling the boy to fix her, but instead found himself pulling the door closed and getting down in front of her.

"Kid! Look at me!" When he got no response he reached out, forcing one hand inbetween her clenched knees, grasping at her chin. His other hand pulled at her pony tail causing her head to rise. Her eyes were watering, a steady waterfall, but instead of becoming red and puffy they seemed to be sinking into her pale cheeks. Her lips were tinged blue with the lack of oxygen that her hyperventilation was causing to her body.

"Want your boy?" Happy asked softly. She shook her head 'no' in one quick, sharp motion. Her head turned to the side, she stared away from Hap, over his shoulder.

Hap again reached up, grasping her chin and forced her sight back to him. Her lips were bluer, her cheek ashen. Hap grunted deep in his throat.

"Slow the fucking engine kid, you're gonna stall out." His tone was harsh and she seemed to pull back a bit, but he kept her in place.

Her limbs were losing their tension and there were black spots swimming over Hap's stern face when she felt his hand let go of her chin and slide down around her throat, applying pressure at the base of her jaw. He stood up, his grip forced her up along the wall. Her knees were quaking, but the pressure from his hand steadied her some how.

Pulling her forward, he slid in between her and the wall, pulling her body into his chest. He dropped his grip on her long enough to grip her wrists, crossing them over her chest, banding her in his arms, constricting. He slid back down the wall, his legs spread so she would fit in between.

As soon as she was in place he squeezed in on her, forcing her to slow her gasps to longer, deeper breaths. Her fear was rolling off her. Hap could smell it, taste it. It was a sour, bitter smoke that choked her. It didn't fit with the little he'd seen from her, she used fear like high octane fuel, she drove it, forced it.

"Flight ain't your gear girl. Fight, that's you. Put that shit down, hard." Her breathing was still ragged, slower but she was adjusting it. He let loose a little, but Twozy wasn't ready for that yet. She planted her feet and pushed back into him. Instantly he seemed to understand and again clamped down around her.

His head tucked into her shoulder, his long frame swallowing her up, balling her into him. Twozy's head seemed to ease as his breath brushed passed her, carrying his smoke-laced, gravely words to her ear. "I got you 'til you put that shit down."

Slowly Twozy seemed to regain her breath and the steady waterfall of tears dried. The random sounds from the bar entered her ears, along with the roar of cars driving down the road and the clanking sounds of tools. Hap's easy, steady heart rate thumped into her like a metronome, giving her a rhythm to follow, something to centre herself with.

As she calmed Hap's arms eased 'til they were just resting around her. Twozy found herself noticing his long, ringed fingers. The chunky silver pieces, large and detailed, were vibrant against his dusky skin. His hands were muscled and scarred with odd puckered nicks along his knuckles. She brought her fingers up to them, tracing them. Hap's voice stilled her, just the motion, her hand stayed hovering above his.

"What's choking you kid?"

"Everything. Nothing. It all just…spun out on me." Her voice was obviously controlled and pushed from her.

"Like I said. Flight ain't your gear. Need to break it down like a race. It's all about knowing when to hammer down, when to ease in to a turn and never slamming on the breaks so you don't torque out kid. It's the down shift past the finish line so you don't hit the wall." Hap's words made sense to her, she got it.

It was all about control and seeing what was really coming before you actually got there. Fear needed to be used, never just let loose. That was a lesson she'd learned long before she should have. It was a lesson most never really got in life, but it had taught her that running left only the chase and the eventual take down. Whether it was a man or her own thoughts, she needed to hold ground and pace it 'til she got to grips with it and could steer it.

Using Hap's knees for leverage she pulled herself to her feet and turned to face him.

"Insightful." Was all she said. Her eyes met his and he saw that she had herself back in check. The turmoil and panic were gone. Her eyes were back to their steady blue-iced shutter.

"Why the fuck I need to pass for Cree?" The question was asked with such frustration that Twozy realized he'd missed the whole discussion earlier about getting the guns in, and them out, of Canada.

"Missing shit ain't your thing Happy." Her knowing smirk wasn't missed by Happy.

"Don't get smart kid." Hap said as he stood, pulling out a smoke. He offered one her way. Twozy took it and the light he offered.

"Help me grab the shit from the truck. Need to get moving. I'll fill you in once we get it all done."

She spun towards the truck and Hap followed. She opened the door and just started handing off boxes to Hap who had to take a moment to adjust things in his hands. She passed a box with blank plastic cards, a printer and a camera. Slinging two laptop bags over one shoulder she slammed the door to the truck shut and turned to see Hap waiting for her, loaded down with what she handed off.

"Happy."

"Yah."

"Thanks." Twozy said, her head down, the word sticking a bit. She wasn't used to the non-twin interaction. If it had been Dayz the word would never have had to be spoken. She put one foot in front of the other and held the door for Hap as they entered the club house.

When Twozy entered the club house after Happy, Dayz had looked up and caught her eye. He was up and coming her way, swinging his arm around her, pulling her close.

"Everything good?" he asked.

"No but I got it. In neutral for now Dayz." Dayz stopped and turned in front of her as she spoke. He felt her tension and unease. Their eyes met and Twozy saw that her brother was free in a way she was not. There were no hidden shadows behind his eyes. Somehow sharing with these men had mended him.

In that instant she felt with clarity and certainty that Dayz would be the one to be fixed. He was going be the one who had a life outside of their twisted heads.

Twozy pulled in air, filling her lungs, forcing the mask into place. "I'm good. Let's get to work before it's too late."

She stepped past Dayz and let herself shift; smile in place, shoulders eased back, cheery voice; all the things she did to ease people around her now in play, so that the crazy that she housed stayed hidden in place.

'Fake it till ya make it bitch!' was the mantra of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


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**Synchronized**

All the Sons sat at the bar and stared at the twins as they worked. Smokes, beer and tools were reached for and passed between them without words, without visual contact. They indeterminately typed away at their individual laptops with the occasional peek over to inspect one another's screens, or to made adjustments to the forged documents being prepared that were laid out in front of them.

As they worked all the guys suddenly wondered at how they had missed the obvious relation of the two. Dayz' hair was back to its natural blond color and it hung to his shoulders. It had been pulled back at the same moment that Twozy had pulled her purple mass up; exposing both their vibrant, large, blue-grey eyes fringed with pale lashes that faded into their sharply arched eyebrows. They had the same shaped mouth; strong bold jutting points with the same full bottom lip. On the girl it seemed to be pillowed and pouted, on the boy's face it was instead a perfect fit. His features were more masculine, harder, bolder, but they were identical.

More then anything it seemed evident in the way they moved in synchronicity, down to their expressions of concentration as they worked, lips sucked in at the same moment, corners of mouth tucked and chewed as they tapped away, both humming the same tune.

Lorca was a little stressed about the plan. The last thing he needed was to lose Happy, but the kids were planning to get him across as a native Indian; which is what they were apparently doing at the moment, hacking into the Canadian Aboriginal Affairs database and making Happy a Cree/Métis Indian out of Alberta, Whitefish Lake First Nation, Goodfish Reserve.

The twins were being thorough. They had gone in and traded Hap's face for some one of a similar description and height, although with no criminal record. Apparently thought that would matter little, as a First Nations he had free access to both sides of the border, his Cree status making him a citizen of the Cree nation. They had already done the same in the American Native Affairs database, making him a Cree from the North Dakota, Muskeg Lake Cree Nation; which left him cleared from Canada and back out.

The twins suggested it in the first place as their Canadian connection was a Métis of the North Shore of Vancouver, a Nation under the same treaty. The twins' connection would be bringing them over as visiting tribal council members discussing tourism of the first nations, avoiding the border crossing all together. Instead they would cross over in a war-canoe tour operated by the tribe out of their reserve.

Lorca's worries about the guns going over with out a Son were covered. He just hoped the kids were not over-exaggerating their skills, knowledge or connections; but the risk needed to be taken.

Twozy was going over by regular means and would meet Happy on the Canadian side on the reserve. Her contact had agreed, for a little cash incentive, to cross the guns and Happy. There were additional conditions; that the trade-off to the buyers was not done on First Nation land, that no one other then Twozy contact them ever again for a service like this and that Twozy be present when the guns landed.

Twozy would be crossing over by car with her new ID in the name of Gwen McCann and would meet Hap when he landed. Dayz was staying state-side in case any problems came up. The twins had both been ill at ease with that part of the plan, but they didn't see a way around it. If they both got picked up in Canada they would have no access to the means necessary to fix or create an escape route via computer hacking. They had back-up ID's ready to go though, just in case of such a situation.

"Lorca, how the fuck is it that a set of babies is making this shit happen?" Donut asked with disgust.

"Brother, I got no fucking clue how it's getting done. All I know is it needs to be done. Maybe if we had a Juice around here this shit could stay in our hands, but we ain't got one, or the time to get Juice up here to do what they're doing, and we still need the girl's hook up." Lorca sighed.

"What? The boy don't got the same pull?" Knuckles asked.

"Why is it they only want Twozy to be contact?" Kozic asked.

"Not sure why, but nah it's the girl they trust." Lorca shrugged.

"Hey! Kiddies! How the fuck you get in with the tribe?" Bowie asked. He saw no point in not just asking the kids straight out, but that was Bowie, sharp and to the point just like his name.

Neither of the twins even looked up they just started talking; it became a verbal tennis match.

"Twozy jumped in on a fight she shouldn't have." Dayz hadn't been impressed with this and it came through in his tone.

"Three of them, one of her, was not a fight Dayz. It was a beat down." Twozy's tone was sticky sweet and oozed with forced patience.

"She was doing just fine on her own." Dayz shot back.

"Down on the ground being booted is not holding your own Dayz." The boys saw her shift, her patience seemed to be slipping, but still her eyes and hands were tethered to the computer in front of her.

"You, on the other hand, almost got beat for saving the dumb bitch when her friends came running." Dayz shot back, the tap of his keys became faster and seemed to be hammered out.

"Dayz, you're still just pissed because you got your nose broken by a girl, so shut up." Twozy said.

"I got sucker-punched by a moose that passes for a girl." Dayz was grinding his teeth.

"HEY!" Kozik yelled and followed through with a high-pitched whistle. Both of the twins stilled for a split second, then continued on with whatever they were doing on the laptops one handed, the other pointed up, signalling for needing a minute.

"Done." They said in unison, the tap-tap on the keyboards stopped. They turned to one another and started arguing with each other again in whispered growls.

"Hey! Hey! HEYYYYY!" Kozik yelled again.

Dayz broke off from the argument by slumping back in his chair, arms crossed, his head flung back in defeat.

"Twozy saved a native chick off the reserve from a beat down by a couple of dumb racists. The girl's friends showed up and thought Twozy was in on the beat down and started swinging. I jumped in and got my fucking nose broken by a Mack truck bitch 'til Shalyn, that's the chick Twozy stepped up for, managed to get her girls under control and explain shit.

Meanwhile the dumb bitches ran off and got the cops. We heard the sirens. Shalyn grabbed Twozy and just started huffin' it. Took us fifteen minutes to get clear of the fucking RCMP. Those assholes are fit mother fuckers, they'll leave their patrol cars man…..book after you. Shalyn's part of Red Nation Vancouver Native gang, runs shit in the downtown core of Vancouver. She knows where to get clear. We ended up in some crank motel in Gas Town, stuck for a few hours.

Apparently little sis' here broke one of the girl's fucking jaw, so the pigs were looking hard. All I have to say is, I thought I knew how to deal with drunks, but I was re-educated that night. Twozy got '_cozy'_ with Shalyn. Me? I spent the night with a very fucking drunken Mack truck named Chantel who fucking kept swinging at me while she told me she fucking loved me."

"Ohh get off it. She's a sweetheart sober and you know it." Twozy was hard pressed to keep from laughing at the looks she was getting from all the guys at the bar. All eyes had turned to her at the word 'cozy' and what Dayz' tone had inferred.

"So this Shalyn, what she look like?" Riggs was proving to be the most vocal degenerate of the bunch.


	12. Chapter 12

**Unbalanced**

As the day had worn on Dayz and Twozy had hung around with the guys playing pool and kicking back a few beers. Dayz' ease with them relieved some of the tension in Twozy and slowly she felt herself enjoying the interactions.

She still had her front, the chipper, playful persona in place, but she'd find herself answering questions rather then evading them or distracting from the answer. Her guard slipped just a bit as she absorbed information about each man; married, divorced, kids, no kids, favorite women, favorite position. They were open in a way most men, much less criminals, never were. On a personal level at least, one-on-one, they all spoke plainly, blunt and crude. They seemed to have no filter or shame in each other's presence. No topic or action was off limits between them.

Happy was the odd man out. In his manner he accepted a ribbing, with a flippant 'fuck you' or black stares, but he was not prone to talking. He listened, he missed nothing. She'd found his eyes trained in her direction more then once as the day wore on. His gaze each time caught her off kilter, shifted her a bit in her head. She'd feel his body wrapped around her, holding her in place while she lost her shit and each glance seemed to make her more contained. The random burst of fear she felt most days collecting but not expanding.

"Kid c'mere." Hap's voice always seemed to sneak up on her, a rolling rumble that she felt first and then heard. Twozy turned from the bar to see Happy seated on the sofa, his arm slung across the back beer held in hand, his other on the arm rest held a smoke. His long lean body was at ease, one leg bent foot flat to the floor, his other stretched out.

Twozy picked up her own beer from the bar top and made her way over. She didn't slide onto the sofa at his side. She stood in front of him, silent, looking at him. She waited for him to speak; but he didn't, he just looked at her, his head tilting, eyes directing her to the space under his outstretched arm as if to say 'sit'.

She looked at the vacant space then back at him, shrugged with a smile and moved in. She turned in sideways, her shoulder up the back of the sofa. She leaned her head into the crook of his arm and tilted her head back, perching her legs over his bent knee. She had an inner moment of giddy laughter as he seemed to take in what she was doing. His eye followed her bending legs, paused at her turned out hip, and followed the side curve of her body up to her breasts, to her mouth, to her eyes. Once she had eye contact she let the giggle loose, a big smile spreading across her face.

"Jailbait Happy. Jailbait." Her tone was teasing. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Paperwork's what counts, yours makes you legal ….girl." Happy said as he reached up and held her chin, lifting her gaze, his thumb sliding along her lower lip for emphasis.

She got the sense that Happy was always piecing things together, that he collected and sorted events, actions, words and manners of the people around him and stored them until he had all the pieces to create a full picture. With her, he was always looking for more pieces. Happy's actions with her had made them connect in some indefinable way in her brain, making his digging looks for all her pieces acceptable. It was something she had never tolerated from anyone other then Dayz. It was a tenuous threaded of trust between them, but now there none-the-less.

In her own head she accepted that part of it was her own attraction to the raw, hard predator that was Happy. Her fucked up, abused child craved the violence she felt emanating from just below his inked skin; it appealed to the dark, shattered fragments in her.

The only question she didn't have an answer to yet was: did she want him to unleash it at her or shelter her with it? Happy put his hand on her knee, squeezing, pulling her wandering thoughts back. She looked at him again, seeing him focused on her, trying to decipher what it was she had going on in her head.

"You driving shit now or what?" His hand still rested at her knee, his thumb sliding back and forth, a momentary distraction to his words. Her eyes looked at his long-fingered hand, connecting the sensation he was causing in her body. A deep slow warmth seemed to spread up her leg, to fill her abdomen and chest with an unnamed heat of want that slammed straight to her head, causing her breath to catch. She looked at hap as she answered.

"Yah. I got the wheel." Her voice was breathy and his hand shifted, sliding up and over to her inner thigh, the heat increased. Happy pulled her closer, yet pulled them out of the intimate position. His eyes never left hers as he placed her back to the sofa while he shifted her off his legs.

The contradicting feelings to his actions left her unbalanced. Her body was humming with lust and head was scrambling to figure out if the heat she felt was all her want. She was positive Happy was interested, but something had changed in the last ten seconds. As he pulled her into his side, his arm draped around her shoulders, she was looking out across the club room at the various men and women. Some men in cuts, others just hang arounds. The women were what pulled her back. There were some who had seen better days, but most were pretty and dressed in the usual slutty gear; but they all seemed to be on-hold, paused until a man stepped into their path. The same vacant look was held by most of the girls, it was the same look her mother had. She leaned forwards on her knees, pushing up slowly.

She walked away saying. "I'll see you in the morning Hap."

"Kid." She'd guarantee that she'd heard regret in his tone.

The truck was in the garage. The guns were already stashed in long fishing coolers, loaded ready to go. Twozy and Hap would drive in as far Seattle in the truck. She'd drop him off there to meet up with Shalyn's brothers, Reggi and Travis, who would take him across with the guns by water in their war canoe tour.

Twozy would continue on and drive into Canada over land and meet Hap in the reservation. If all went well she would be in North Vancouver waiting on the reserve for him, but that left her with the problem of getting back to the house tonight.

She found Dayz sitting with Knuckles having a slurred and mumbled conversation, as best as she could guess about his bike, as they shared a joint. Her brother had gotten himself good and fucked up. His words were slurred and he kept shaking his head as if he hoped that it would clear his obvious case of bleary eyes.

"Dayz, time to go home bro. Come on, I'll call a cab."

Dayz nodded at her, but slouched back into his chair, his head rolling back, his arm reached out pointing his figure at her.

"K. Two-zee."

"Hey lilbit." Knuckles was just a little less bleary eyed then Dayz.

Twozy was still illogically pissed with him, but right then he looked a little sad some how, that is till he bellowed. "BONES! BOOONNNEEESSSSY!"

Knuckles was squinting around the room looking for the prospect who came running out from behind the bar at the other end of the room, cutting in and out between the milling crowd who had all turned to see what the ruckus was about.

"Take Fixit an' lilbit home in the tow truck." He barked out with a drunken wave in her direction.

"Thanks Knuckles." Twozy said as the old man leaned on the table, his bleary eyes looked at Dayz and she saw longing in them.

"I'll bring the truck. Think you can get him out the front door on your own?" Bones asked as he headed out, not waiting for her answer.

"Lilbit?" Knuckles was still focused on Dayz who seemed to be passed out in his chair.

"I had a boy once, he…. Well, he's gone now. But Dayz here, he's what I hoped my boy would have become. That's why I asked him you know? He told me how that's not on the cards so you can relax alright? Just…. just let him off the hook.

Rips him up to think you feel like you're not enough because you are you know. I just wanted to bring him into the family. That's what we are, these are my brothers, the reason I breathe. I just wanted to include him in that breath."

Knuckles eyes had shifted as he spoke, his voice was whisky rough but strong and full and Twozy felt it. Her heart swelled with pride for her brother who managed to reach this rough, hard man; who saw him as a good man, worthy of his respect, loyalty, trust and love.

"Knuckles, the way we are, the way I am; it's complicated. But we'll fix it. It's what me and him do, we fix each other. Always have, always will, old man."

Bones came in and hoisted Dayz up, drag walking Dayz out towards the door. Twozy skipped ahead of them to the club house door and held it open for Bones. She looked back at Knuckles, he was half turned watching them leave.

"Good night old man." Her anger was less, but now she felt a keen sense of want. She wanted what was being offered to Dayz: Family.


	13. Chapter 13

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


**review are welcome suggestions on one shots?**

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**Sleep deprived**

Twozy's night of sleep was constantly interrupted by night terrors, none of them tangible images, just feelings that left her with a panicked heart beat and irrational fears that she had to put down. Hap's voice and words repeated in her head;

"Flight ain't your gear girl. Fight that's you, put that shit down hard." until she got a grip and could steer through it. Her eyes would close, only to pop open again and start over.

The restless night left her sluggish when it was finally time to get up. She had grabbed her knapsack before bed and packed up black skinny jeans and two shirts, one just a plain black wife beater the other a fitted dress top that she used for distraction when she hustled. It was a low cut v, draped at the front and backless, with a cinched hem that would hug her hips when she leaned forwards over a table. It gave a great view of whichever lace bra cupped her breasts. She'd shoved in her royal purple thigh high boots which were still unworn. Her make up bag was a pencil case that simply held mascara, an eye liner, a deep red lipstick and her toiletries.

When she crawled out of bed she pulled on a pair of sweats and kept her sleep shirt on, a ragged threadbare black t-shirt with the faded image of a smoked skull. She got herself in the bathroom, washed the smeared liner from her face and took care of her needs. She wandered into the kitchen, turned on the coffee and made a few breakfast sandwiches of egg and cheese. The coffee smell reached Dayz who woke with a groan.

Twozy grabbed water and aspirin for him. She found her brother sitting on the bed, head bent and held in his hands.

"Fucking kill me. Please." Twozy never said a word. She placed the aspirin on the floor in front of him along with the water.

Dayz stumbled to the washroom. Twozy pulled out a pair of clean jeans for him and a t-shirt whilst searching for her boots under the clothing she had ripped off the night before. She was still stumbling, not really coherent, but pushed to get herself ready. Her boots were left unlaced and thumped as she stumbled into the kitchen to wrap up the food to go.

She filled her and Dayz' 'to go' cups and on a whim grabbed a third for Happy. She'd made four sandwiches, figuring that the way Dayz was feeling, he wasn't likely to eat a second one like he usually did.

Dayz stumbled into the living room and pulled on the laid out clothing. When he was dressed he turned to find Twozy, mug held out. He finally looked at her. She had black shadows under her eyes and looked as hung over as he was.

"You get drunk?" Dayz voice held confusion. Twozy never really drank, she always gave the impression she was, but generally she nursed the same beer or passed it off as finished and got another.

"Nah, just couldn't sleep. You're driving." As she went to pass Dayz she stumbled on her shoe laces. Dayz caught her before she could fall over and sitting her at the end of the bed he crouched down and did up her laces.

"I told Knuckles 'no'." Dayz meant it to sound final, but she heard regret in his tone.

"Dayz my head…, if you want this I'm not going to be what keeps you from it, but I need time." Dayz looked at her and reached out to pull her head in to his. He kissed her forehead and stood up pulling her with him. He didn't speak, it was too damn early to really talk about anything.

Happy was already waiting when they pulled up, leant up against her truck. As they parked he wandered over and helped Twozy out, taking her knapsack from her as soon as she was out. She thrust the coffee she'd made at him.

"It's black and strong. Didn't think you were a sugar and cream kinda guy." Her voice was tired and grumpy and she looked rough.

Her hair was a tangled mess, hanging over one shoulder, leaving one exposed sheer clad breast that drew his eye. Her nipple was hard and jutting and barely covered by the thin material. He could make out the distinctive rose color, see the difference between it and the creamy skin of the globe through the worn shirt.

"Cream sometimes." He said as he thrust his hands into his pockets. He pulled the keys out, jingling them at her.

"Go put the shit in the truck. I'll be out in a minute." He turned on his heel and followed Dayz who had already gone in.

Twozy, still stumbling, went to the truck with her bag. She pulled out a sandwich and began to munch on it,

"Fixit, how's the head?" Bones asked as Dayz pulled himself up to the bar.

"Not good. Waitin' for the aspirin to kick in." Knuckles was at the other end of the bar and slid him the bottle of whisky he had used to fix his hair-of-the-dog coffee.

"Works faster than fucking aspirin boy." Knuckles hadn't said a word. It was Hap's voice that he heard make the suggestion. His stomach rolled at the thought, but as he looked up he noticed that Happy was on his own.

"We're out soon as I talk with the Boss." He watched as Dayz jumped off the stool to head back outside. Happy figured the boy was going to say his goodbye's to her.

Happy wandered to his dorm, he grabbed a hoodie for the girl, he hadn't seen a jacket. As he locked up his room Lorca patted him on the back.

"Kids show up yet?"

"Out front saying good bye and shit." Happy replied.

"You alright with takin' the kid?" Lorca asked.

"Gets shit done." Happy said.

"'K. Keep shit easy. Let me know when you're clear."

"Alright." Hap gave Lorca a slap on the shoulder on his way out.

As Hap came out of the doors he saw Dayz in the truck but not Twozy. When he opened the driver door he found her laid out across the bench, her head pillowed in the boy's lap.

"Hap man wha…." Dayz got cut off with a low timbered growl from Happy.

"Boy, you ask for the cell one more time I'm gonna carve it into you." Hap was short on patience. He knew that the two had been tied to each other for the last four years:

but the boy had spent the whole day before appearing out of nowhere with questions and suggestions; asking what he planed to do with Twozy was she going to the Triad meet, telling him to make sure he didn't let her get dragged off by Shalyn or there was sure to be trouble. Apparently this girl was a rowdy one, prone to getting in shit.

Dayz kept double checking that he had Hap's cell right, that he had all his info down pat if he got pulled up crossing. Hap had had to restrain himself from knocking the boy out.

"No man. Just wanted to let you know, when she out like this you got to be careful. One second she's curled up in the door, next she's kicking you in the face or sacking you with her head or elbow, that's all."

"Sacking….. What?"

"She'll sit up and flop over into your lap. She flails in her sleep, and right now she's out cold, so be careful."

Hap climbed into the driver's seat. He took the hoodie, folded it and laid it iacross his leg.

"Give her here." Happy looked at Dayz when he said it. Dayz' eyes seemed to narrow at him for a second. It was that same kick he had seen in Twozys eyes when she felt like he was pushing in were he didn't have a right; but just as quickly it seemed to settle. It was an involuntary thing. Happy noticed that the twins did it even in the simplest of conversations if their backs went up, if there was the slightest claim or pull on the other.

"I ain't getting kicked in the head kid, just swing her over."

Dayz pulled Twozy up, none too gently. As soon as she was up her eyes popped open for a second, then closed. Happy reached for her and pulled her over. Her head rested on his thigh, her nose just barely missing the steering wheel as she curled in on her side, her hands tucked into her chest.

"I know I'm a pain in the ass kid to you Happy. I get that you're a bad motherfucker who'd kill me before I could blink, but you get this; if you get her lost to me… I'll fuck up your world."

It wasn't often Happy got threatened, much less that there was a fucking hope in hell he let shit like that slide, but Dayz hadn't been throwing shit out to come off as hard. The kid never really backed away from him, no matter how hard Hap stared his ass down with looks that made badder mother fuckers than Happy himself think twice about stepping up.

His looks were simply accepted and ignored by both of these kids. In that moment the boy was making him a promise. He could respect that, he'd done it right, looked him straight when he said it, no fake ass bluff. The kid meant it, felt it.

"When I get back with your sister, me and you gonna have a conversation." Happy turned over the truck, hands resting on the wheel. He watched as Dayz made sure his sister's legs were folded high enough that he could swing the door shut. Dayz gave him a smirk and a two figure salute and slammed the passenger door. Happy found himself chuckling as he pulled out of the lot.

"Fuck up my world. Cocky little fucker."


	14. Chapter 14

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


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**Hard driving **

As Happy steered the truck with his left hand, he found his arm reaching over the girl to keep her in place as he pulled up to a red light. At the contact Twozy adjusted and slid her hand onto his thigh under the bunched up hoodie and the other under his thigh. Her fingers twitched every so often and she would mumble in her sleep.

By the time they hit the highway Happy was feeling a little tight in the pants. The silence of the cab, the warm air, her occasional sighs and warm hands that gripped and fluttered in alternating patterns all left room for his brain to envision waking her to his hard dick and putting those lips she kept licking in her sleep to good use.

His foot got heavy on the gas, but luck was on his side, the roads were clear of cops. He kept seeing her in his head; in the rare moments her guard was down, how she seemed to just be lost. Her appeal to Hap, as sick as it sounded in his head, was the fact that she was fragile and young. That and her artistry at keeping everyone around her fooled. It pulled at a something in him, he wanted to watch her take it all and become more.

He got that the girl was as strong as she was frail. She had strength, loyalty, courage and love that had all been annealed in the forge of brutal betrayal at the hand of her father. That which should have left her brittle, bitter and weak had instead been reshaped into a blade, now was the time for her to sharpen it to a fine edge.

Love was a weight for her. She didn't know how to be with anyone other than the boy, and as much as the boy felt the same, his world had opened up. At some point they were gonna both need more than just each other. That left the girl with two roads, fall and become only the brittle, broken bits; or she would have to let go and reach for more. She needed to make herself real in her own mind. Her perky, cocky act would have to meld in with all her broken bits. Happy wanted to be there when that happened, wanted to be what she reached for., wanted to be the one she created the edge with.

Happy had never had an old lady because he had never found a woman he though was worth it. However, if he let himself admit it, since the first time he'd seen her, she had managed to filter into his head. Over the last year, that image had replaced whichever naked bitch he had in front of him.

From what he had seen of the girl she was at the cusp of a fall. Things were shifting. Reality was being pushed into the bubble that she and the boy had managed to create in their years on the run. The bubble in which they had only each other had been popped. The boy wanted more, needed more. Hap knew without a doubt that the girl needed it too.

She slept the whole three hours before they got to the meeting with the war canoe. A place outside the main part of town, at a boat launch site, off the beaten path. When Hap parked and killed the engine Twozy stirred. Her sleep laden voice was muffled and barely audible as she asked. "Were we at bro?"

"Boat launch. Twenty minutes early. Your…" Twozy's hands clamped around his leg for a split second before she bolted straight up. Wiping at her mouth, she slowly turned to look at him. For a second time the girl was just that, a girl, no front. He got a glimpse of her that took his breath away. Her look, raw and uncensored, held him entranced. There was that pull again and this time it over rode all his misgivings. Yet he also saw the innocence of her in the shy, embarrassed blush staining her cheeks as her lip was pinched between her teeth.

When she dropped her head for a second the curtain of purple, sleep tangled hair fell over and blocked his view. He felt a surge of disappointment. When she looked up again the bright smile was in place and her eyes were once more shuttered.

Happy had been half way hard most of the trip, but that one moment of unguarded innocence he glimpsed from her had him straining his zipper. He didn't think, he just reached over and pulled her in. His mouth brushed hers slowly. He felt her tense at the first contact. He pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes. The moment he felt her give in he pulled her in again, gently brushing his lips across hers at first until he felt her mouth open and her tongue lap at his bottom lip; then he deepened the kiss, his own tongue lapping into hers and pulling back until she would shyly dart her own into his.

When he felt her pushing in further, letting him deeper, he pulled back and found her once more unguarded. His hands slid to the nape of her neck, his fingers sliding into the tangled mass, keeping her in place. His voice rolled over her.

"That's who I want. Cut the hustle shit when you look at me. I want to see all that shit; anger, pain, all that. I want to see the bitch who can hold her own. Own that shit 'cause you sure as fuck earned it with every smack and every shit word. You earned the right to be pissed scared and hurt; all of it's yours… so is all the good shit you made of yourself, the love the loyalty. All that pain breaks most. You and you alone made it into something strong."

He didn't give her a chance to reply or think, he just pulled her in and kissed her again, deep and demanding this time. Twozy's brain was in a scramble to catch up to her over-heated body. He seemed to be taking over. She couldn't organize a thought. What she felt at his hands left her unhinged.

In the distance there was a rolling thunder of drums. Twozy used it as a tow back into herself; the heavy rolling beat pulled her back. She pulled away and quickly opened the door and climbed out. She looked at Hap, her guards back in place, and she heard Hap growl deep in his throat.

She shut the cab door and started heading toward the dock, leaving Hap in the cab grinding his teeth.


	15. Chapter 15

******Hi folks i'm reposting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


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**Bullwinkle?**

Twozy's drive into Canada went seamlessly. The border guard took a look at her passport, asked the standard questions and waved her through. The only time she hit a snag was when she got turned around in Vancouver trying to get to the Lions Gate Bridge, but otherwise she was well ahead of schedule. As she pulled into the reserve she got the odd hard stare from the residents until she pulled up to Shalyn's house. Shalyn came running out after some little kids but gave up the chase when she spotted the truck.

Shalyn's face was expressive. It was one of the things Twozy had found out the night they met. She loved how the girl's cheeks rode high when she smiled, how she winked at her when she was sassy or overly sexual.

They had spent their night kissing, rolling around, playing. It was a light, easy exploration of each other. It was an experience Twozy had cherished as there had been no threat in it. Twozy had simply felt wanted, and for her that was a new feeling. When they'd gotten breathless they'd rolled back and lay side-by-side and smoked a joint and talked. It was hard for her to admit, but Shalyn managed to pull shit from her, mostly because she was just like Twozy, broken.

That night was one of the few she'd had were she did not feel the pressure of being in play. That night she had been just a girl, no hustle, no game plan. She'd been free to just be. She identified with Shay. "Duct taped to pass inspection." Was the description Shalyn had given.

That night Shaylyn had shared, been open and free about a drunk father who, sober, was a man who only gave love; but drunk, swung first with little or no regard to whom he hit. Her mother had disappeared turning tricks, leaving behind Shalyn and two older brothers, along with a younger boy and twin girls. Shalyn and her brothers held the family together.

Twozy had kept in touch with Shalyn. At first her excuse was that they could always use the connection, but the truth was she liked Shalyn. The night she'd come up on those girls giving her a beating, what had made her step in, was the fact that the girl just wouldn't stay down and Twozy knew that took courage. It took someone who knew pain; someone who knew that life was a constant struggle and that laying down was never an option.

Over the last few years they emailed back and forth. Shalyn would tell her the goings on in her life. While Twozy never said much about herself, she always replied. She didn't know why the connection with Shay was so important, but it was.

"When you go all purple people eater on me bitch." Shalyn yelled at her as she made her way across the front yard.

Twozy opened her arms and found herself swung around in Shalyn's arms, her neck bitten. It all ended in a mutual ass grab and them both laughing.

"Hey. Where's that brother of yours? Thought you two never did time outs?" Shalyn asked as she stepped back from Twozy, tugging her long hair and wrapping it in her fingers.

"He had to stay back in case shit went wrong. He can get my ass back." Twozy smiled at Shalyn shrugging.

"Come on. We got a bit before the boys make it across the water. I'll make you some moose steak and potatos. Gotta feed the twins anyways." Shay turned and headed towards the front door.

"Moose? As in Bullwinkle?"

"Yah white girl! Moose. Shit! I eat Bambie's mom too!"

Just as they made it to the steps, two black haired kids came running and skidded to a stop when they saw Twozy. Their eyes flicked over her, then to their sister. They took a step back and reached for each other's hands. Shalyn stepped forward and grabbed them, stepping behind them to stop the retreat. She pushed them forwards towards Twozy as she said:

"This is Twozy kids. This is Chaz and Raven." She placed a hand on each child's head. Both the kids still looked at her with reproach.

"You a social worker?" Both twins said at once. The undertone of mistrust was as clear as a bell to Twozy. She found herself bending down to one knee so that she was at eye level with them.

"No! But I'm a twin like you guys. I got a brother, his name's Dayz." Twozy reached out and grabbed their joined hands. "It's nice to meet you both." She stood up and looked at Shay her eyebrows going up a bit.

Shay shook her head while both twins looked at Twozy, their heads tilting as they stared at her; two sets of ambered eyes steady and curious.

"Come on. Let's go get some lunch guys. Towzy's a friend. She's stayin' with us for a few days, her and a friend of hers. It's all good."

"How come you're by yourself?" Both twins asked as they headed in.

"Dayz had to stay back to make sure I can get back. This is the first time I haven't had him with me in a long time." As she said that she felt for her cell. She sent Dayz her coded message that she was good, her fourth since she had left Happy.

"Are you scared?" Raven asked.

"A little. Not as scared as I used to get when I was kid and we would have to spend time apart, but see we talk by text, send messages back and forth so it doesn't feel too weird."

Shalyn had already made her way into the house. As Twozy entered she looked around. There were native prints up on the wall and pictures of Shay's family. The sofa had an old afghan on it and was worn, as was most of the furniture, but it was clean. It gave the impression of a house well lived in. The smell of food was inviting and warm.

Twozy followed the twins into the kitchen just as Shay began tossing meat into a skillet with onions and potatoes. She had an odd pang of longing in her chest. It wasn't often that she had spent time in a real home, been around people who were related. As she watched the twins begin grabbing plates and juice, setting the table for all four of them, she thought of Happy and what he'd said to her. She was never going to have a place or more than the frantic panic if she didn't start fixing herself. Maybe Happy was right; she needed to stop hiding if she wanted to be whole. She was pulled from her thoughts as Shay called her to come eat, the twins echoing her.

The twins had been full of questions throughout the meal, but once the food was gone and the juice was all gone they had wandered away, leaving Twozy and Shay in the kitchen. Shay lit a joint once she'd checked that the kids had gone back out to play.

"So what's the deal with the kids and social workers?" Twozy asked as she passed the joint back.

"Dad was on a bender and tooled some asshole in the bar. He's in for the next six months, so some dumb social worker went to their school to take them into custody. Put them in separate homes. Took me and my brothers two weeks to get them back and the only reason we got them back is they kept running off. First few times they came home so it was OK; but the last time they took off and disappeared for three days 'til they got caught doing a five finger discount at a grocery store."

"Where they hide for the three days?" Twozy asked.

"Shit if I know, won't say." Shay roached the joint and stood up.

"They want to have a way to hide if your worker ties to split them up again." Twozy said mostly to herself, but Shalyn heard her and nodded her head.

"So what's the deal with the bikers? Last email, all you said was going on was floor sanding and paint. Girl, how the fuck you get in on this kinda shit?" Shay leaned on the table in front of Twozy. She tucked her hair behind her ear and Twozy took her in. The girl was a beauty, not the off-the-shelf magazine type, but there was a real raw pull. Her eyes were a gilded green. In stark contrast her skin was coffee kissed milk, her lips plump, Twozy smiled.

The quick off the cuff answer was ready, her tongue tingled with it, but something pulled her back; Hap's voice telling her to "own it". She looked up at Shay and decided it was time to start doing exactly that.

"Being a good Samaritan can get you in some strange ass situations." Twozy smiled. She was going to tell Shay the truth, what she could anyways, about her life. She needed someone to talk to about Happy and Dayz and all the other shit she need to figure out. Twozy figured that if anyone would be willing to listen it'd be Shay, and Shay would have a better outlook on what the hell was going on with her and Happy then she did.


	16. Chapter 16

******Hi folks I'm re-posting the whole story fully edited by Muckyshroom**  


**Reviews are welcome suggestions on one shots?**

_**Adult situation warning!**_

** I would never condone it in real life a minor with a grown ass person but I believe I have established that my girl is a different kinda beast due to her life. So warning if you object to sexual scenes this chapter is not for you, if your under 18 this is a no no page for you.  
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**for the rest enjoy...wink  
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**RIVER STYX (inspired by BRMC)**

The deal done, Happy headed back to the reserve. He wasn't exactly sure how this night would go, but when he pulled into the reserve he got the feeling it was gonna be an interesting one. Just at the water's edge a massive bonfire was roaring, and as he parked the truck, there she was. Moonlight, red flames and shadows gave her the look of myth, but more than anything it was the sway of her body as she danced. She moved bonelessly with a fluid grace. She arched in offering to the moon, her arms raised, head back, eyes wide as she gazed up at the night sky and swayed.

He wasn't sure what it was about her that drew him. To someone less focused on what was the core of a person she would appear to be just what she played at; a jaded bit of fluff, easily managed, but he knew better. He'd seen it the night at the gas station, that glint of rage that fed on blood and pain, the serving of it and the want of it for herself. She craved pain and rage like a heroin addict wanted the oblivion of the high and Happy recognized that; but like him she found a way to control it all. She tethered herself with love and devotion. Again something they had in common was how they dealt in the ragged bit of themselves.

Happy leaned up against the truck and watched her, his head spinning the consequences of letting himself have her, of giving in and taking her on. She wasn't something he'd give up easily. The taste of her had haunted him all day. Her sighed moans filtering around him, pulling up a satisfaction in him at their memory. The feel of her was something he was beginning to crave and imagine. Those moans being fed to him from her own mouth as he pinned her under him. Those long legs wrapped around him as he buried himself in her. It had all been in his head since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, wrapped in a towel and wet, in the motel room.

His head had spun out on the first contact of her blue eyes locking with him, the rare glimpse of her unshuttered; open with all that promise and pain that were only ever for the boy to see and share. Her eyes swam with raw emotion. The bend of her knee as she assessed him, the way she had instantly fallen into place and done what most women wouldn't. She'd read him and hadn't run in fear. If he was honest, he'd been played in that moment, distracted by the ease with which she had spoken. Her body relaxed, her gaze on him. He'd felt it then, the need to break her back to the unguarded bit of a girl who had love and loyalty so easily read in her eyes. She controlled her fear, managed to contain all her shattered bits of soul, with just those two simple, yet so hard to receive, emotions.

Innocence was part of the draw for him, but more than anything it was the unyielding focus she showed when it came to the boy. That mindless love and loyalty that Dayz got from her, the sheer devotion she and him had may have come from blood shared and spilled but it was an intoxicating thing to see. He wanted it for himself, a mirror of his devotion to the club and his mother. That devotion was something he had never wanted from a woman. There were too many risks in his world, for them and for him.

Happy was an honest man. He never wanted to have to lie to someone he loved. His mother was the exception to the rule. While he didn't out and out lie to her, he didn't tell her much either. It helped that she had never judged him for his life. She was like Twozy that way, when it came to her son there was no wrong in him. She had that mindless love and loyalty for him. There was no question where he stood with her, she loved him and he in return loved her. Now that the cancer was making her fade, Happy was feeling the void her loss would leave. She was his connection to humanity, she held him in check and soon she'd be gone, leaving him with only the club.

While he would always have the club, it wasn't the same as the warm devotion his ma gave him. It was something he earned from the club. They gave him respect, loyalty and a home where ever he parked his bike; but blind devotion it was not and that blind devotion was something he wanted, needed. The decision was made. The girl was his. He pushed off the truck, heading in her direction. Now he just needed to make sure he could get her to take him and keep him.

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Twozy was in her own world. The heat of the fire, the stars, the heavy beat of the music was all adding to her already altered mental state. Since their conversation in the kitchen, she and Shay had been on a steady slow burn of BC finest, leaving her head warm, fuzzy and abstractedly geared.

She'd jumped back and forth all day, her wants unleashed and free to create movies of her inner desires in her head. Some simple, some more complicated; but of all the things that floated in, it was Happy who always seemed to take center stage.

Simple or complicated, she pictured him there. So when his sleek form began coming towards her in the firelight she assumed it was her head playing out some new subconscious desire once more, and she went with it. The look of possessive desire in his dark pitched eyes didn't make her recoil at their claim.

It was a fantasy she could enjoy. She gave herself over. She raised her arms in open invitation at his apparition and when he stepped into her the grip of his hands on her felt right. Firm, calloused thumbs slid to her skin, just at the waist of her jeans, making small circles on the smooth surface of the small rise of her hips. A small burst of focus found its way into her haze and she knew he was real, flesh and bone pressed to her.

The kick back instinct to push away anyone who wasn't Dayz floated up and she found herself pushing it aside. She let Happy have all the things he seemed to demand with his eyes and forced her to admit to herself at the first contact of his lips as he kissed her. His hands found their way over her body, mapping her, pulling her deeper into his hold. She felt the flicker of her own desire for him burn a little brighter at his roaming hands.

His desire so honestly expressed in the steady grip of his hands as his lips slid along her jaw, stopping to nip at the base of her ear. When his voice, a raw, rumbled growl flowed into her head it seemed to set the flicker to a raging flame. All it took was one word.

"Mine."

Happy felt the moment she gave in to him. It was the brush of her breath across his neck, the surge of her body into the press of his, as if his claim had magnetized her to him. There was no space between them and Happy intended to see that it stayed that way from here on out.

The last clear thought he had was that Twozy was his and he needed to get her under him, alone, and that the closest thing was the bed of the truck. With a hard grip he steered them in that direction, his lips never leaving hers. He had no intention of giving her a moment to let herself think. He lifted her up with one arm. Her legs found their way around him as he kissed her, keeping her lips locked with his as his hand cradled the back of her head.

Twozy wasn't sure how they had gone from the bonfire at the water's edge to a secluded bit of darkness in the back of the truck. She could still hear the music and the party but it mattered little. If Happy had dropped her to the ground at the edge of the fire and fucked her in front of the whole damn reserve she wouldn't have noticed. For once her head was off completely. She had no thoughts other than what Happy seemed to elicit from her body with his hands and mouth.

She followed him and arched at every stroke of his fingers, lips and tongue. There didn't seem to be some part of her he didn't want to have. When he pulled away from her, to pull her clear of her shirt, she cried out almost in panic until she found his eyes and saw they reflected her own frantic need. She reached for her own jean button and they both slid her free of them.

Happy's shirt followed and Twozy felt the roll of his muscle under her hands as she gripped his shoulders. As he cupped her breast, drawing her nipple into his mouth, her nails dug into him and again it felt as if he was feeding the flames that licked at her. As he growled above her the rumble spread through her with the vibration of his chest. She arched into him, seeking him out instinctively. Her legs cradled him and she could feel how hard he was.

Her body was an entity of its own at his hands. She had no control over herself anymore. With each stroke he sent her further over into the mindless desire he had created in her. When she reached between them, tugging at his belt, there was a pause and a catch of his breath. When she managed to free him, the growl of satisfaction that escaped his lips sent shivers of conquering satisfaction through her. He was as immersed in the moment as she was. She made him burn as brightly as he did her.

She stroked the hot length of him only for a moment before he pulled her by her wrists and pinned them above her head in a one-handed grip. He dropped his head to her shoulder, his heavy breathing into the crook of her neck sent shivers down her spine.

She moaned in frustration at the restriction of her hands, her whole body arching into him. She could feel the radiating heat of his cock against her own slick, wet cunt and all she wanted was to be around him, swallowing him up and into her, consuming him. She felt him raise his head at the moan. Her eyes snapped to him with raw open surrender.

"Please Happy." It was a breathless plea from her.

He pulled himself up at her words, balanced on the hand that held her wrists. It was almost a painful grip, until she felt him reach between them. At the rubbing of his cock against her slick folds she spread her legs further, trying to push herself onto him, but his grip tightened and she found herself once more seeking his eyes.

"You're Mine. Say it!" Happy's voice was hard, cold and demanding. The words were clipped and harsh, but it was the flicker of uncertainty that slipped into his eyes as he gazed at her waiting for her to say them back, that really made their meaning sink in for her.

This wasn't him fucking her. This was him laying claim, and she knew that they were a real promise from him. All the desire she had stilled for just the beat of her heart.

"I'm yours Happy." The words were firm, not whispered and breathless. There was that edge of her own hardness; as if at their utterance he needed to be ready for what that meant. It meant that he was hers and that nothing was ever going to step between them.

That hard, rampant edge of possession was a two-way street.

As he drove himself into her, his eyes locked on hers. He repeated her words back to her.

"I'm yours."


	17. Chapter 17

**Muckyshroom get all the credit for the edits  
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**reviews are wanted and this is a new chapter folks tell me your thoughts  
**

**Warped**

Kozik, Knuckles and Bowie sat at the picnic table. Their eyes were levelled on the boy as he rolled his shoulders and cranked his neck side to side. They had all silently witnessed the fights. Silently observed whilst the Friday night crowd cheered with each match Dayz had won. The volume and excitement spiralled louder as body after body hit the mat at his feet.

The boy was no longer. In his place stood a man of hard fists, vacant eyes and roiling muscle that served pain with violent elegance, delivered blows with precision. Ribs and kidneys were repeatedly pummelled. The last and final blow was a left or right handed uppercut to the chin; knocking most out and or at least on their ass, leaving them too dazed to stand.

The pattern was glaringly obvious to the men seated at the table. Dayz allowed his opponent the first swing and stood still to take the punches, his guard at his sides. He waited for the kick the blows gave him and the kick was what had caught the boys' attention. They saw plain as day that Dayz sought the pain; that it triggered a menacing, feral grin which spread across Dayz' face. His fists would come up fast and launch out with precise punches. Damage was delivered with cold calculation.

Dayz was doling out pain which would result in the pissing of blood and shallow breathing for the next few weeks for whichever dumb-ass hang-around had stepped between the ropes. The roar of the crowded muted the thud as the fourth body hit the mat, but Dayz didn't raise his arms in victory. He was already scanning the faces beyond the ropes, looking for his next target with a cold dead eyes.

The moment Happy had cleared the lot with the girl Knuckles and all the boys had seen the shift. It was as if the increasing distance between the two twins had pulled an invisible thread that kept the boy centred to the world. As the hours passed and the miles grew there was less of the boy and more of the man who knew pain, anger and hate. The texts he received seem to alleviate the tension for short bursts, but the last one had been in the early part of the afternoon and since then Dayz had become manic. Seeing the quiet, stoic, calm before the storm broke was what had prompted Knuckles to suggest Fixit take the edge off in the ring.

"Knuckles. Go get that boy out of my ring. I'm down two mechanics as it is. I can't afford to lose anymore." Lorca said as he ambled up and took a seat at the table.

"You see it Prez?" Bowie asked, his eyes still on the ring. Dayz was leaning out over the ropes as Knuckles shouted to climb out and give the ring over to the patches.

"Yeah I see it." Lora took a drag of his smoke and leaned back, turning his gaze on Bowie.

"Kid's got potential for sure. Knuckles is talkin' of sponsoring him next prospect round." Lorca said.

"That kinda rage makes for one hell of enforcer. Question is; whether or not it's tempered up with loyalty, which we know the kids got..., for the girl." Bowie and Lorca looked over at Kozik who had spoken whilst still watching the ring; two visiting patches were beginning to circle. Both men took what he was saying to heart. They liked the kid but Kozik was right, the girl was Dayz' first priority hands down.

Knuckles was heading back to them, shaking his head with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What's so funny old man?" Bowie shouted out.

"If Fixit is this bad, what the fuck is the lilbit like?" Knuckles chuckled.

"Ahhhh Shit! Hope Hap don't kill her." Bowie and Kozik said in unison, prompting all four men to pause and then burst out laughing at the image of Happy having to contend with a very moody female.


	18. Chapter 18

_**lemosn lemons under 18 no no page  **_

** It x-mas eve and since the mynas got it wrong were stuck paying the credit card bills lol**

**Hope you all enjoy food family and all the chaos and joy seeing them all at once brings.**

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Happy had barely slipped clear of her in the back of the truck before she'd been scrambling away, cursing a blue streak about Shay and her time stopping pot. At first Happy had been pissed that she hadn't even had her shirt or shoes on as she'd run off with no explanation; waving him off as he called after her as she tuged her jeans in place.

He'd still been sitting on the tailgate smoking when she had wandered back, cell in hand and her shirt half way covering her body. Her purple boots were slung over her shoulder. She hadn't looked up from her cell as her thumbs bounced, but she manoeuvred herself between his knees and leaned back into his chest. The high was gone and while she seemed to not to want space between them, she wasn't really aware of him either. All her focus was on the cell.

"What's so fucking important you need to run off half naked girl?" Happy asked as he turned her back to face him.

Her body complied with his firm grip with no resistance, but her head stayed down. He could feel the tension in her as she stared at the cell.

"I missed contact with Dayz. There are like twenty texts. I freaked him out when I didn't respond and now he's not answering me back, so I...I... Fuck! I feel sick."

"Easy. He's at the club house. The boys'll make sure he's OK."

"We don't function well apart. Things get warped. The head space gets dark Hap. He can get... touchy."

"Doll, I'm the one feeling touchy. This was just the start of the night. So show me where I can put in some real time distracting your ass 'til the little shit gets his head out of his ass."

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Twozy had no inhibitions. Her whole body hungered for his touch. Without affectation she led him to satiate her needs. Fucking her was like being in the ring. She pushed back hard, found ways to push him to a higher pace, to find leverage and maintain his control.

She slowly rolled her hips while she was pinned beneath him, pushing and grinding into him, tempting him to lose himself to the edge of his desire. Her legs around him, her mouth to his: She fanned the flames of his own aches with small sighed moans against his lips, sending shivers down his spine as she whispered his name.

When she'd cum her whole body had vibrated and arched. Teeth bit lip, drawing blood. He'd been surprised at the inner joy he'd felt watching her come undone. Her spasming pussy had been like an electric wire sending shocks around his cock. Her hands had tightened on his ass, her sharp little nails digging in; only to scratch up hard and fast at his final thrust, easing into feather light touches across his spine, sending him even further over the edge and deeper into her. His rough roar of satisfaction, followed by her clear laugh, had filled the quiet house.

Happy landed back on the bed, his body slack. The girl was in his arms, her legs bent and hugging his hips. With a soft pull to her chin he found her mouth and licked at her lips with gentle swipes of his tongue. The tang of copper spread to him from her bitten lips. Both laboured to breathe.

"Hap?" Her voice was soft and hesitant as she scooted down his chest and sat up to look at him.

"Yah girl?" Happy leaned back, folding his arms under his head, waiting. He knew, sure as the sun was coming up, that she wanted to jump out of the bed and run to her phone. This was his third attempt to distract her since she'd run off for her cell the first time around.

She was singularly focused when fucking him, but the moment they were done she jumped from the bed. The first time he let it slide and just started over, pulling the phone from her hands and pulling her in tight against him, kissing her 'til she'd stopped reaching for it. The second time he had followed her up and tossed her ass back on the bed with a growl. That had been a defining moment for them, her hard eyed stare up at him from the mattress pulled another growl from him, this time in frustration.

Her seeming dismissal of him the moment his cock was clear of her pissed him off. When he'd flung her body down on the mattress the ice cold, hard eyes she had levelled on him as she'd slipped down past his towering frame with defiance, daring him to try it again as she retrieved the still silent cell, had established one thing. She wasn't gonna just bow to him. He'd watched as she paced the room with swinging hips, her hair swaying opposite to each step. Her naked body had him hard again.

He'd reached for her length, pinning her to the wall, scooping her up by her knees even as she twisted away from him. He'd guided her legs around him. Nipping the column of her neck with sharp bites meant to show his displeasure, which had pulled a deep moan from Twozy, stilling her struggles as he made a path to her mouth and grumbled out his anger, only to have her smile at his words against her lips.

"Gonna have to fuck you so hard you can't walk so you quit jumping out of my fucking bed the minute my dick's clear of that fucking sweet pussy."

So now with her body over him for the third time he saw the tension and fear creep up over her face. Her already chewed lips were tucked between her teeth. He could feel the tension in her body build as she tried to stay still and not run off. When he saw her head turning in the direction of her cell he stood up with a huff, cradling her in arms. He walked over to the dresser, her legs again finding his hips and gripping as he carried her.

He reached for the cell and handed it over before walking them back to the bed. He eased her under him as she once more sent the little shit a text. At the trill of her phone announcing a reply to her sent message all the tension snapped free of her. Twozy's body went limp under him. A ragged breath slipped past her chewed lips, her eyes closing, her arms dropping to the pillow under her head once she finished reading the message.

"What the little shit have to say?" Happy was still above her. Her legs had fallen free and wide and he reached his hand down, sliding under her thigh, pulling her leg up, spreading her open under him. Tilting his hips, his cock hovered against her still slick entrance.

"We'll fix it tomorrow." Twozy pushed up, her own hips, seeking to be filled, but Hap raised her leg higher to stop her movement.

"What's that shit mean?" Happy had seen trepidation float across her face as she'd answered him. He wasn't comfortable with the emotion; whether it was for the boy or him he wasn't sure.

The thought was chased away when he felt her hands sliding along his chest, only to scrape her fingernails down his taught abs and around to his ass. The sensation jerked him forward and into her. She pushed her leg up onto his shoulder with a satisfied smile as she slipped onto him once more.


End file.
